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TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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20 

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Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


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1.25      1.4   11.6 

4 6" 

► 

23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14.<S80 

(716)  872-4503 


z 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


Thai 
toth 


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I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


n 


D 


D 
D 


D 


D 


Couverture  endorvimag^e 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurie  et/ou  pelliculAe 


I      I    Cover  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


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□    Coloured  pages/ 
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r~~|    Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 


E 


n 


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Thai 
poss 
of  th 
filmii 


Origi 
begir 
the  ii 
sion, 
othei 
first 
sion, 
or  illi 


Thai 
shall 
TiNU 
whici 

Maps 

differ 

entire 

begin 

right 

raquii 

math( 


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Ce  document  est  film^  au  taux  de  reduction  indaqu^  ci-dessous. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

J 

12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


The  copy  filmed  here  hes  been  reproduced  thenks 
to  the  generosity  of: 


L'exempieire  filmA  fut  reproduit  grice  A  la 
gAnirosit*  de: 


Harold  Campbell  Vaughan  Mamorial  Library 
Acadia  University 

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Acadia  Univoraity 

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fllmege. 

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originaux  sont  f  ilmte  en  commenpant  par  la 
premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  emprelnte 
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la  derniire  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
emprelnte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — ^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  dee  symboles  suivants  apparattra  sur  la 
dernlAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  -^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symboia  ▼  signifie  "FIN". 


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different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableeux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
filmfo  d  dee  taux  de  reduction  diffArents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grend  pour  itre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  cliche,  11  est  f  llmA  A  partir 
de  I'angle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  ptenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n6cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivents 
iilustrent  la  m^thode. 


1  2  3 


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2 

3 

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5 

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THE 


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CLOCKMAKER; 


OR, 


THE  SAYINGS  AND  DOINGS 


vr 


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SAMUEL   SLICK, 


.V  ^'i'T-.    < 


OP  8LICKVILLB. 

f r  .    ~         ■  .-    --••  -  -.  .-■-■■■. 

Ecce  iterum  Crispinut. 
V  iMffe  aint  tbe  Clockmaker  again,  aa  I 

^  *  -                                         .  ■  ■  "^ 

SECOND  ISERIES. 

-•    -♦ 

>aUT9l 


PHILADELPHIA: 
LEA    &    BLANCHARD 


,,-jt.  ■ 


1841. 


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COLONEL  C.  R.  FOX. 


>.'^i. 


.1    A' 


Dear  Sir,  •  . 

In  consequence  of  the  favourable  opinion  ex- 
pressed by  you  of  the  First  Series  of  The  Clock- 
maker,  an  English  Publisher  was  induced  to 
reprint  it  in  London ;  and  I  am  indebted  to  that 
circumstance  for  an  unexpected  introduction,  not 
only  to  the  British  Publisher,  but  to  that  of  the 
United  States.  The  very  flattering  reception  it 
met  with  in  both  countries  has  given  rise  to  the 
present  volume,  which,  as  it  owes  its  origin  to 
you,  offers  a  suitable  opportunity  of  expressing 
the  thanks  of  the  Author  for  this  and  other  sub- 
sequent acts  of  kindness. 

As  apoUtical  work  I  cannot  hope  that  you 
will  approve  of  all  the  sentiments  contained  in  it, 
for  politics  are  peculiar ;  and  besides  the  broad 


w 


(») 


Jiosi-oi 


:..^a 


iV  <t  DBDICATIOir.  ^ 

lines  that  divide  parties,  there  ai-e  smaller  shades 
of  difference  that  distinguish  even  those  who 
usually  act  together;  but  humour  is  the  common 
property  of  all,  and  a  neutral  ground  on  which 
men  of  opposite  sides  may  cordially  meet  each 
other.  As  such,  it  affords  me  great  pleasure  to 
inscribe  the  work  to  you  as  a  mark  of  the  re- 
sfiect  and  esteem  of 

THE  AUTHOR. 


Nova  Scotia, 
2l8t  April,  1888. 


,*»*.>^-' 


■  #•:  *     -A- 


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23. 

CONTENTS. 


The  Meeting Ptg«    7 

The  Volvmtary  Syitem 10 

Training  »  Curriboo ^ 91 

Nickfinulah«w 97 

Travelling  in  America ' 88 

ElectiTe  Cooncib 46 

SlaTerjr M 

TalkingLatin 69 

The  Snow  Wreath 79 

The  Talisman 79 

Italian  Painting*' » ,     86 

Shampooing  the  English 93 

Putting  a  Foot  in  it 101 

English  Aristocracy  and  Yankee  Mobocraejr 109 

Conftssions  of  a  Deposed  Minister 118 

Canadian  Politics * 196 

A  Core  foj^  Smuggling 185 

TakLig  off  the  Factory  Ladies 149 

The  Schoolmaster  Abroad .'. . .  169 

The  Wrong  Room 160 

Finding  a  Mare's  Nest 168 

Keeping  up  the  Steam 176 

The  Glockmaker**  parting  Advioa t 185 

1  *  (5) 


\ 


.11 


■fh'-' :  ■'■  *■.: 


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-Sk-fif.  ,***' 


'  4ji?'wv-  ^f:^-«f\>i,:}' :  :^^v. 


I 


'i'S":''A^--  :'";'^i.  ■;,  ''.;\ 


•     •'-:•<  t 


'^^ki^^-^y^y'-i^'f'- :'''-!  ^5L-r  eSf»:  v> 


.  .-«•*■ 


'ir:^.y,:^:.XS^^^^ 


^r^ 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


CHAETER  I. 


THE   MEETING. 


Whoxvbk  has  condescended  to  read  the  First  Series  of  the 
Clockmaker,  or  the  Sayings  and  Ddngs  of  Mr.  Samuel  Slick, 
of  Slickville,  will  recollect  that  our  tour  of  Nova  Scotia  ter- 
minated at  Windsor  last  autumn,  in  consequence  of  bad  roods 
and  bad  weather,  and  that  it  was  mutually  agreed  upon  be- 
tween us  to  resume  it  in  the  following  spring.  But,  alas  I 
sprinff  came  not.  They  retain  in  this  country  the  name  of 
that  delightful  portion  of  the  year,  but  it  is  **  Vox  et  preterea 
nihil.**  The  short  space  that  intervenes  between  the  dis8olr« 
tion  of  winter  and  the  birth  of  summer  deserves  not  the  ap- 
pellation. Vegetation  is  so  rapid  here,  that  the  valleys  are 
often  clothed  with  verdure  before  the  snow  has  wholly  disap- 
peared from  the  forest. 

There  is  a  strong  similarity  between  the  native  and  his  cli- 
mate ;  the  one  is  without  youth,  and  the  other  without  spring, 
and  both  exhibit  the  effects  of  losing  that  preparatory  season. 
CuUivati<m  is  watUing.  Neither  the  mind  nor  the  soil  is  pro- 
perly prepared.  There  is  no  time.  The  farmer  is  compelled 
to  hurry  through  alt  his  field  operations  as  he  best  can,  so  as 
to  commit  his  ^ain  to  the  ground  in  time  to  insure  a  cro^. 
Much  is  unavoidably  omitted  that  ought  to  be  done,  and  all  is 
performed  in  a  careless  and  slovenly  manner.^  The  same 
haste  is  observable  in  education,  and  is  attended  with  similar 
.  effects ;  a  boy  is  hurried  to  school,  from  school  to  a  profes- 
sion, and  from  thence  is  sent  forth  into  the  world  before  his 
mind  has  been  duly  disciplined  or  properly  cultivated. 

When  I  .found  Mr.  Slick  at  Windsor,  I  expressed  my  regret 
to  him  that  we  could  not  have  met  earlier  in  the  season-;  but 
really,  said  I,  they  appear  to  have  no  spring  in  this  country. 
Well,  I  don't  know,  said  he ;  I  never  see'a  it  in  that  light 
afore ;  I  was  athinkin*  we  might  stump  the  whole  univaroal 

(7> 


^T 


THB  CLOOKMAKSR. 


K 


world  for  climate.  It's  ginerally  allowed,  our  climate  in 
America  can't  be  no  better.  The  spring  may  be  a  little  short 
or  so,  but  then  it  is  added  to  t'other  eend,  and  makes  amoet 
an  everlastin'  fine  autumn.  Where  will  you  ditto  our  fall?  It 
whips  Eofflish  weather  by  a  Ions  chalk,  none  of  your  hangin', 
shootin',  drownin',  throat>cuttin  weather,  but  a  clear  sky  and 
a  ffood  breeze,  rael  cheerfulsome. 

That,  said  I,  is  evading  the  question  ;  I  was  speaking  of  the 
shortness  of  spring,  and  not  of  the  comparative  merit  of  your 
autumn,  which  I  am  ready  to  admit  is  a  very  charming  por- 
tion of  the  year  in  America.  But  there  is  one  favour  Imust 
beg  of  you  during  this  tour,  and  that  is,  to  avoid  the  practice 
you  indulged  in  so  much  last  year,  of  e^taltinff  every  thing 
American  by  depreciating  every  thing  British.  This  habit  is, 
I  assure  vou,  very  objectionable,  and  has  already  had  a  very 
perceptible  effect  on  your  national  character.  I  believe  I  am 
as  devoid  of  what  is  called  national  prejudices  as  most  men, 
and  can  make  all  due  allowances  for  them  in  others.  I  hav« 
no  objection  to  this  superlative  praise  of  your  country,  its  in- 
stitutions or  itp  people,  provided  you  do  not  require  me  to  join 
in  it,  or  express  it  in  language  disrespectful  of  the  English. 

Well,  well,  if  that  don't  beat  all,  said  he ;  you  say,  you 
have  uo  prejudices,  and  yet  you  c^n't  bear  to  hear  tell  of  pur 
great  nation,  and  our  free  and  enlightened  citizens.  CaptGun 
Aul  (Hall),  as  he  called  himself,  for  I  never  seed  an  English- 
man yet  that  spoke  good  English,  said  he  hadn't  one  mite  or 
morsel  of  prejudice,  and  yet  in  all  his  three  volumes  of  tra- 
vels through  the  r-nited  States  (the  greatest  nation  it's  gine- 
rally allowed  atween  the  Poles),  only  found  two  things  to 
praise,  the  kindness  of  our  folks  to  him,  and  the  State  prisons. 
None  are  so  blind,  I  guess,  as  them  that  won't  see ;  but  your 
folks  can't  bear  it,  that's  a  fact.  Bear  what  ?  said  I.  The 
superiority  of  the  Americans,  he  replied ;  it  does  seem  to  grig 
'em,  there's  no  denyin'  it ;  it  does  somehow  or  another  seem 
to  go  agin  their  grain  to  admit  it  most  consutnedly ;  nothin* 
a^n..ost  ryles  them  so  much  as  that.  But  their  sun  has  set  in 
darkness  and  sorrow,  never  again  to  peer  above  the  horizon. 
They  will  be  blotted  out  of  the  list  of  nations.  Their  glory 
has  departed  across  the  Atlantic  to  fix  her  everlastin'  abode  in 
the  17-nited  States.  .Yes,  man  to  man, — ^baganut  to  baganut, 
— ship  to  ship, — by  land  or  by  sea, — fair  fight,  or  rough  and 
tumble, — we've  whipped  'em,  that's  a  fact,  deny  it  who  can  t 
and  we'll  whip  'em  agin,  to  all  etarnity.    We  average  mora 

'   !  /  C  :t.  ■  ■    '  " 


THB  MBBTliro.  9 

phyMcal,  moral,  and  intellechial  force  than  any  people  on  the 
face  of  the  airth ;  we  are  a  right-minded,  •trong-minded, 
•ound>minded,  aQd  high-minded  people,  I  hope  I  may  he  ehot 
if  we  ain*t.  On  freui  or  on  salt  water,  on  the  lakee  or  the 
ocean,  down  oomea  the  red  croas  and  up  go  the  stare.  From 
Bunker's  Hill  clean  away  up  to  New  Orleens  the  land  teems 
with  the  glory  of  our  heroes.  Yes,  our  young  Repuhlie  is  a 
Colossus,  with  one  foot  in  the  Atlantic  and  the  other  in  the 
Pacifto,  its  head  ahove  the  everlastin*  hills,  graspin*  in  its 
hand  a  tri A  rifle,  shooting  squirrels,  said  I ;  a  verv  suit- 
able employment  for  such  a  tall,  overgrown,  long-legged 
youngster. 

Weil,  well,  said  ho,  resuming  his  ordinary  quiet  demeanour, 
and  with  that  good  humour  that  distinffuished  him,  put  a  rifle, 
if  you  wilf,  in  his  hands,  I  guess  vouMl  find  he's  not  a  bad 
shot  neither.  But  I  must  see  to  Old  Clav,  and  prepare  for  our 
journey,  which  is  a  considerable  of  a  long  one,  I  tell  yott,— 
and  taking  up  his  hat,  he  proceeded  to  the  stable.  Is  that  fid- 
low  mad  or  arunk,  said  a  stranger  who  came  from  Halifax 
with  me  in  the  coach ;  I  never  heard  such  a  vapouring  fool  in 
my  life ; — I  had  a  strong  inclination,  if  he  had  not  taken  him- 
self>Dfl^  to  show  him  out  of  the  door.  Did  you  ever  hear  such 
insuflerable  vanity  ?  I  should  have  been  excessively  sorry,  I 
said,  if  you  had  taken  any  notice  of.  it.  He  is,  I  assure  you, 
neither  mad  nor  drunk,  but  a  very  shrewd,  intelli^^Mit  fellow. 
I  met  with  him  accidentally  last  year  while  travelling  through 
the  eastern  part  of  the  province ;  and  although  I  was  at  first 
somewhat  annoyed  at  the  unceremonious  manner  in  which  he 
forced  his  acquaintance  upon  me,  I  soon  found  that  his  know- 
ledge of  the  province,"  its  people  and  government,  might  be 
most  useful  to  me.  He  has  some  humour,  much  anecdote,  and 
great  originality ;— -he  is,  in  short,  q^uite  a  character.  I  have 
employed  him  to  convey  me  fi^m  this  place  to  Shelbume,  and 
from  thence  along  the  Atlantic  coast  to  Halifax.  Although 
not  exactly  the  person  one  would  choose  for  a  travelling  com- 

EBni(m,  yet  if  my  guide  must  also  be  my  companion,  I  do  i6ot 
now  that  I  could  have  made  a  happier  selection.  He  raables 
me  to  study  the  Yankee  character,  of  which  in  his  particular 
class  he  is  a  fair  sample  ,*  and  to  become  acquainted  with  their 
peculiar  habits,  manners,  and  mode  of  thinking.  He  has  just 
now  given  you  a  specimen  of  their  national  vanity ;  which, 
afler  all,  is,  I  believe,  not  much  greater  than  that  of  the 
French,  though  perhaps  more  loudly  and  rather  difierently 


m' 


\ 


t  ' 


k 


\ 


1^    *1 


f! 

:.'■! 


V- 


\ 


THE  CLOCKMAKVR. 


expressed.  He  is  well  informed  and  quite  at  home  on  all 
matters  connected  with  the  machinery  of  the  American  gov- 
ernment, a  subject  of  much  interest  to  me.  The  explanations 
I  receive  from  him  enable  me  to  compare  it  with  the  JBritish 
and  Colonial  constitutions,  and  throw  much  light  on  the  specu* 
lative  projects  of  our  reformers.  I  have  sketched  him  in 
every  attitude  and  in  every  light,  and  I  carefully  note  down 
all  our  conversations,  so  that  I  flatter  myself,  when  this  tour 
is  completed,  I  shall  know  as  much  of  America  and  Ameri- 
cans as  some  who  have  even  written  a  book  on  the  subject. 


CHAPTER  II. 


'<■  .::\^<^-^: 


THE  VOLUNTARY  SYOTEM. 


^^  S^y^-tr^^rM 


The  day  afler  our  arrival  at  Windsor,  being  Sunday,  we 
were  compelled  to  remain  there  until  the  following  Tuesday, 
so  as  to  have  one  day  at  our  command  to  visit  the  College, 
Retreat  Farm,  and  the  other  objects  of  interest  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood. One  of  the  inhabitants  having  Vindly  offered  me 
a  seat  in  his  pew,  I  accompanied  him  to  the  church,  which}  for 
the  convenience  of  the  College,  was  built  nearly  a  mile  from 
the  village.  From  him  I  learned,  that  independently  of  the 
direct  influence  of  the  Church  of  England  upon  its  own  mem- 
bers, who  form  a  very  numerous  and  respectable  portion  of 
the  inhabiuunts  of  Nova  Scotia,  its  indirect  operation  has  been 
both  extensive  and  important  in  this  colony.   ^  c^i^?  l^^t^^vi^ 

The  friends  of  the  establishment,  having  at  an  early  period 
founded  a  college,  and  patronised  education,  the  professions 
have  been  filled  with  scholars  and  gentlemen,  and  the  natural 
and  very  proper  emulation  of  other  sects  being  thus  awakened 
fo  the  importance  of  the  subject,  they  have  been  stimulated  to 
.ntiintain  and  endow  academies  of  their  own. 

The  general  diffusion  through  the  country  of  a  well-edu- 
c  ■fctd  body  of  clergymen,  like  those  of  the  establishment,  has 
had  a  strong  tendency  to  raise  the  standard  of  qualification 
among  those  who  differ  from  them,  while  the  habits,  manners, 
und  regular  conduct  of  so  respectable  a  body  of  men  naturally 
and  unconsciously  modulate  and  influence  those  of  their  neigh- 
bours, who  may  not  perhaps  attend  their  ministrations.  It  is, 
therefore,  among  other  causes  doubtless,  owing  in  a  great 
measure  to  the  exertions  and  salutary  example  of  the  Church 


'    ) 


THE   VOLUNTARY  STSTEM. 


11 


in  the  Colonies  that  a  higher  tone  of  nftoral  feeling  exists  in 
the  British  P/>vinces  than  in  the  neighbouring  states,  a  claim 
which  I  find  very  generally  put  forth  in  this  country,  'and 
though  not  exactly  admitted,  yet  certainly  not  denied  even  by 
Mr.  slick  himself.  The  suggestions  of  this  gentleman  induced 
me  to  make  some  inquiries  of  tHe  Clockmaker,  connected  with 
the  subject  of  an  establishment ;  I  therefore  asked  him  what 
his  opinion  was  of.  the  Voluntary  System.  Well,  I  don't 
know,  said  he ;  what  is  your'n  ?  I  am  a  member,  I  replied, 
of  the  Church  of  England ;  you  may,  therefore,  easily  sup- 
pose what  my  opinion  is.  And  I  am  a  citizen,  said  he,  laugh- 
ing, of  Slickville,  Onion  county,  state  of  Connecticut,  United 
States  of  America :  you  may  therefore  guess  what  my  opinion 
is  too :  I  reckon  we  are  even  now,  ar  n't  we  "i  To  tell  you 
the  truth,  said  he,  I  never  thought  much  about  it.  I've  been 
a  considerable  of  a  traveller  in  my  day ;  arovin'  about  here 
and  there  and  every  whare ;  atradin'  wherever  I  seed  a  good 
chance  of  making  a  speck ;  paid  my  shot  into  the  plate, 
;  whenever  it  was  handed  round  in  meetin',  and  axed  no  ques- 
I  tipns:  It  was  about  as  much  as  I  could  cleverly  do,  to  look  arter 
my  own  consarns,  and  I  left  the  ministers  to  look  varter  theim ; 
but  take  'em  in  a  ginerai  way,  they  are  pretty  well  to  do  in 
the  world  with  us,  especially  as  they  have  the  women  oniheir 
side.  Whoever  has  the  women,  is  sure  of  the  men,  you  may 
depend,  squire ;  openly  or  secretly,  directly  or  indirectly,  they 
do  contrive,  somehow  or  another,  to  have  their  own  way  in 
the  eend,  and  tho'  the  men  have  the  reins,  the  women  tell  'em 
which  way  to  drive.  Now,  if  ever  you  go  for  to  canvass  for 
votes,  always  canvass  the  wives,  and  you  are  sure  of  the  hus- 
bands. 

I  recollect  when  I  was  last  up  to  Albama,  to  one  of  the  new '^^ 
cities  lately  built  there,  I  was  awalkin'  one  mornin'  airly  out 
i  o'  town  tc  get  a  leetle  fresh  air,  for  the  weather  was  so  plaguy 
I  sulfty  I  could  hardly  breathe  a'most,  and  I  seed  a  most  splen- 
did location  there  near  the  road ;  a  beautiful  white  two-story . 
house,  with  a  grand  virandah  runnin'  all  rouud  it,  painted 
[green,  and  green  vernitians  to  the  winders,  and  a  white  pali- 
jsade  fence  in  front,  lined  with  a  row  of  Lombardy  poplars, 
and  two  rows  of  'em  leadin'  up  to  the  front  door,  like  two  files 
I  of  sodgers  with  fixt  baganuts ;  each  side  of  the  avenue  was  a 
[grass  plot,  and  a  beautiful  image  of  Adam  stood  in  the  centre 
jof  one  on  'em — and  of  Eve,  with  a  fig-leaf  apron  on,  in 
jt'other,  made  of  wood  by  a  native  artist,  and  painted  so  na  e- 
il  no  soul  could  tell  'em  from  stone* 


13 


TBB  'CLOCXIUMCIft* 


I. 

r 


I- 


I- 


The  avenue  was  all  planked  beautUul»a»d  it  Hwa  Uned  with 
,  flowers  in  pots  and  jars,  and  looked  a  touch  above  eon)mon«I 
tell  yott.  While  I  was  astoppin*  to  look  at  it,  who  should 
drive  by  but  the  milkman  with  his  cart.  Says  I,  stii|uiger, 
sajTs  I,  r  suppose  you  don't  know  who  lives  here,  do  y4M»9  I 
guess  you  are  a  stranger,  said  he,  ain't  von  ?  Wdl,  says  I, 
I  don*t  exactly  know  as  I  ain't,  but  who  lives  heret  The 
Rev.  Ahab  Meldrum,  said  he,  I  reckon,  ^hab  Meldmn^  said 
I,  to  myself;  I  wonder  if  it  can  be  the  Jffiib  Meldrum  I  was 
to  school  with  to  Slickville,  to  minister's,  when  we  was  boys. 
It  ean't  be  possible  it's  him,  for  he  was  fitter  fiw  a  State's 
prisoner  than  a  State's  preacher,  by  a  long  chalk.^  He  was  a 
poor  stick  to  make  a  preacher  on,  for  minister  oo<||^'t  beat 
nothin'  into  him  a'most,  he  was  so  cussed  stufodlap^  1*11 
see  any  how :  so  I  walks  right  through  the  gate,  iw  rape 
away  at  the  door,  and  a  tidy,  well-rigged  nigger  help  qpens 
it,  and  shows  me  into  a'most  an  el^mt  fiimished  room.  I 
was  most  damted  to  sit  dowh  on  the  chairs,  the^  were  so 
sploidid,  for  fear  I  should  spile  'em.  There  was  mirrors  and 
varSes,  and^amps,  and  picturs,  and  crinkom  crankums)  and 
noticms  of  all  sorts  and  sizes  in  it.  It  looked  like  a  basar 
a'most,  it  was  filled  with  such  an  everlastin'  sight  of  curi<* 
osities^ 

The  room  was  considerable  dark  too,  for  the  blinds  was 
shot,  and  I  was  skear'd  to  move  for  fear  o'  doin'  mischiefl 
Presently  in  oomes^Ahab  slowly  sailin'  in,  like  a  boat  drop- 
pin'  down  stream  in  a  calm,  with  a  pair  o'  purple  slippers  on, 
and  a  figured  silk  dressin'-gound,  and  carrying  a'most  a  beau* 
tiful-boimd  book  in  his  hand.  May  I  presume,  says  he,  to 
inquire  who  I  have  the  onexpected  pleasure  of  seeing  this 
momih*.  If  you'll  gist  throw  open  one  o'  them  are  shutters, 
says  I,  I  guess  the  light  will  save  us  the  trouble  i)i  axin' 
names.  I  know  who  you  be  by  your  voice  any  how,  tho'  it's 
considerable  softer  than  it  was  ten  years  ago.  I'm  Sam  Slflfk, 
says  I, — ^what's  left  o'  me  at  least.  Verily,  said  he,  friend 
Samuel,  I'm  glad  to  see  you ;  and  how  did  you  leave  that  ex- 
cellent man  and  distinguished  scholar,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hopewell, 
and  my  good  friend  your  father?  Is  the  old  gentleman  still 
alive?  if  so,  he  must  anow  be  ripe  full  of  years  as  he  is  fiill 
of  honours.  Your  mother,  I  think  I  heer'd,  was  dead— ^th- 
ered  to  her  fathers—pefluse  be  with  her  l-nahe  had  a  good  and 
a  kind  h^  art.  I  loved  h^  as  a  child :  but  the  Lord  taketh 
whom  he  loveth.    Ahab,  says  I,  I  have  but  a  few  minutes  to 


*^: 


'-•■■i»;-j  f»fj>v*-: 


THB  VOLUVTARY  STSTBIf. 


ts 


yoi 


stay  with  you,  and  if  yoa  think  to  draw  th«  wool  over  19^ 
eyes,  it  might  perhaps  take  you  a  longer  time  than  yoii  aift'! 
athinking  on,  or  tha&I  have  to  spare ; — there  are  sonieiMenda 
ou^ve  forgot  to  inquire  lifter  tho*,— ^there's  Polly  Baoon  and 
f  little  Iwy. 

Spare  me,  Samuel,  spare  roe,  my  friend,  says  he ;  of&^  not 
that  wound  afresbi  I  beseech  thee.  Well,  says  1,  none  o*  youf 
nonsense  then ;  si^  me  into  a  room  where  I  can  spit,  and 
feel  to  home,  and  pR  my  feet  upon  the  chairs  without  adam* 
a^'  thin|^,  and  rll  sit  and  smoke  and  chat  with  you  a  few 
minutes  j  m  &ct  I  don't  care  if  I  stop  and  breakfast  with  you, 
for  I  feel  considerable  peckish  this  momin*.  Sam,  sayi  he* 
atakin'  li^  of  my  hand,  you  were  always  right  up  and  down, 
and  aa  jpaight  as  a  shingle  in  your  dealin's.  I  can  trust  yen, 
I  knowj  but  mind, — and  he  put  his  filers  <m  his  lip^-— mum 
is  the  word; — ^bye  gones  are  bye  gones,— -you  wouldnU  blow 
an  old  chum  among  his  friends,  would  ^^ou  f  I  scorn  a  nasty, 
dirty,  iKean  action,  says  I,  as  I  do  a.nij^r.  Come,  fbller  me> 
[then,  Mvs  he  ;--and  he  led  me  into  a  back  room,  with  an  on- 
pipt  painted  floor,  famished  plain,  and  some  shelves  m  it, 
ith  books  cmd  pipes  and  cigars,  pig-taii  and  what  not.  Here's 
iberty-hall,  said  he;  chew,  or  smoke,  or  spit. as  you  please; 
•do  as  you  like  here ;  we'll  throw  off  all  reserve  now ;  but 
iind  that  cursed  nigger ;  he  ha&  a  foot  like  a  cat,  and  an  ear 
or  every  keyhole — don't  talk  too  loud. 

Well,  Sam,  said  he,  I'm  glad  to  see  you  too,  my  i)oy ;  it 
luts  me  in  mind  of  old  times.  Many's  the  lark  you  and  I 
Mve  had  together  in  Slickville,  when  old  Hunks--^it  made 
ne  start,  that  he  meant  Mr.  Hopewell,  and  it  made  me  feel 
cinder  dandry  at  him,  for  I  wouldn't  let  any  one  speak  disre- 
spectful of  him  afore  me  fer  nothin^  I  know,)*— whmi  old 
lunks  thought  we  was  abed.  Them  was  happy  days— the 
ays  o'  light  heels  and  light  hearts.  I  oflen  think  on  'em  and 
Ihink  on  em  too  with  pleasure.  Well,  Ahab,  says  I,  I  dcm't 
^ist  altogether  know  as  I  do ;  there  arasome  things  we  might 
^ist  as  well  a'most  have  left  alone,  I  reckon ;  but  what's  done 
done,  that's  a  fact.  Ahem  t  said  he,  so  loud,  I  looked  round 
bd  I  seed  two  niggers  bringio'  in  the  breakfast,  and  a  grand 
me  it  was, — tea  and  cofl^  and  Indgian  com  cakes,  and  hot 
^read  and  cold  bread,  fish,  fowl,  and  flesh,  roasted,  boiled, 
md  fried;  presarves,  pickles,  fruits;  in  short,  every  thing 
f  most  you  could  think  on.  You  needn't  wait,  said  Ahab,  to 
3 


■'.^■i  Vfe.      PJiiV-' 


a;  w.- 


«•«■ 


\ 


14 


THE  OLOOKMAKBR. 


rv 


i 


i 


the  blacks;  PlI  ring  for  you,  when  I  want  you;  we'll  \mlf 
.ouraelyes. 

Well,  when  I  looked  round  and  seed  this  critter  alivin*  thii 
way,  on  the  fat  o*  the  land,  up  to  his  knees' in  clover  like,  it 
did  pose  ihe  considerable  to  know  how  he  worked  it  so  cleverly, 
for  he  was  thought  always,  as  a  boy,  to  be  rather  more  than 
half  onder-baked,  considerable  soft-like.  So,  says  I,  Ahab, 
says  I,  I  calculate  you*r  like  the  cat  we  UMd  to  throw  out  of 
ministec*s  garrat-winder,  when  we  was  4tboardin*  there  to 
school.  How  so,  Sam  ?  said  he.  Why,  says  I,  you  always 
seeh)  to  come  on  your  feet  some  how  or  other.  You  have  got 
a  plaguy  nice  thing  of  it  here ;  that's  a  fact,  and  no  mistake 
^the  critter  had  three  thousand  dollars  a>year);  hoir  on  airth 
did  you  manage  it?  I  wish  in  my  heart  I  had  atakcil  up  the 
trade  o^  preachin*  too;  when  it  does  hit  it  does  capitally^  tn«t*s 
sartain.  Why,  says  he,  if  you'll  promise  not  o  let  on  to  any 
one  about  it,  1*11  tell  you.  I'll  k^  dark  about  it,  you  may 
depend,  says  I.  I'n^  not  a  man  that  can't  keep  nothin'  in  my 
gizzard,  but  go  right  off  and  blart  out  all  I  hear.  I  kju>w  a 
thuig  worth  two  cr  that,  I  guess.  Well,  sa^^s  he,  it's  mm  by 
a  new  rule  I  made  in  grammar— the  femipme  gender  is  more 
worthy  than  the  neuter,  and  tlie  neuter  more  worthy  than  the 
masculine;  I  gist  soft  sawder  the  women.  It  'taint  every  man 
will  let  you  tickle  him ;  and  if  you  do,  he'll  make  faces  at  vou 
enough  to  frighten  you  into  fits ;  but  tickle  his  wife,  and  it's  elec- 
trical— he'll  faugh  like  any  thing.  They  are  the  forred  wheels, 
start  them,  and  the  hind  ones  fbller  of  course.  ^Now  it's 
mostly  women  that  tend  meetin'  here ;  the  mra-folks  have 
their  politics  and  trade  to  talk  over,  and  what  not,  and  ain't 
time ;  but  the  ladies  go  considerable  rigular,  and  we  have  to 
depend  on  them,  the  dear  critters.  I  gist  lay  myself  out  to 
get  t)ie  blind  side  o'  them,  and  I  sugar  and  gild  the  pill  so  as 
to  nmke  it  pretty  to  look  at  and  easy  to  swaller.  Last  Lord's 
day,  for  instance,  I  preached  on  the  death  of  the  widder's  son. 
Well,  I  drew  such  a  piotur  of  the  lone  watch  at  the  sick  bed, 
the  patiei^ce,  the  kindness,  the  tenderness  of  woiinen's  hearts, 
their  forgiving  disposition — (the  Lord  forgive  me  for  saying 
so,  tho',  ror  if  there  is  a  created  critter  that  never  forgives,  it's 
a  woman ;  they  seem  to  forgive  a  wound  on  their  pride,  and 
it  skins  over  and  looks  all  heal  jd  up  like,  but  touch  'em  on 
the  sore  spot  ag'in,  and  see  how  cute  their  memory  is) — their 
sweet  temper,  soothers  of  grief,  dispensers  of  joy,  ministrin' 
angels. — ^I  m^ke  all  the  virtues  of  the  feminine  gender  always, 


•;H- 


THB  VOLtflTTAEY  STSTBH.  ^ 

— ^hen  I  wound  up  with  a  quotation  flom  Walter  Scott.  They  • 
all  like  poetry,  do  the  ladies,  and  Shakepeare,  Scott,  and  Byioii 
are  amazin*  fitvouritee ;  they  go  down  much  better  than  them 
old-fashioned  staves  o*  Watts. 


**  Oh  woman,  in  oor  hour  of  I 
Unomrtain,  coy,  and  hard  to  pleaat. 
And  yariabia  aa  tho  ahade 
By  tha  lifj^bt  qnhrorinff  aapan  mado; 
When  jpain  and  angiuah  wring  tha  brow, 
A  miniatering  augal  thon.** 

If  I  didnH  touch  it  oiT  to  the  nines  it's  a  pity.  I  never  heerd 
you  preach  so  well,  says  one,  since  you  was  located  here* 
I  drew  from  natur',  says  I,  a  squezin*  of  her  hand.  Nor 
never  so  touchin\  says  an<^her.  You  know  my  moddle,  says 
I,  lookin'  spooney  on  her.  I  fairly  shed  tears,  said  a  third ; 
how  often  have  you  drawn  them  from  me  I"  says  I.  So  true, 
says  they,  and  so  nateral,  and  truth  and  natur'  is  what  we 
call  -eloquence.  I  feel  quite  proud,  says  I,  and  consi  ^eraUe 
elated,  my  admired  sisters, — for  who  can  judge  so  well  as  the 
ladies  of  the  truth  of  the  description  of  their  own  virtues  1 
I  must  sav,  I  felt  someho%  kinder  inadequate  to  the  task  too, 
I  said, — for  the  depth  and  strength  and  beauty  of  the  female 
heart  passes  all  understandin'. 

When  I  left  'em  I  heerd  'em  say,  ain't  he  a  deair  man,  a 
feelin'  man,  a  sweel  critter,  a'mpst  a  splendid  preacher ;  none 
o'  your  mere  moral  lecturers,  but  a  rael  right  down  genuine 
gospel  preacher.  Next  day  I  received  to  the  tune  of  one 
hundred  dollars  in  cash,  and  fifty  dollars  produce,  presents  * 
from  one  and  another.  The  truth  is,  if  a  minister  wants  to 
be  popular  he  should  remain  single,  for  then  the  gals  all  have 
a  chance  for  him ;  but  the  moment  he  marries  he  s  up  a  tree ; 
his  flint  is  fixed  then ;  you  may  depend  it's  gone  goose  with 
them  arter  that ;  that's  a  fact.  No,  Sam ;  they  are  the  pillars 
of  the  temple,  the  dear  little  critters. — And  I'll  give  you  i^ 
wrinkle  for  your  horn,  perhaps  you  ain't  got  yet,^and  it  may 
be  some  uai  to  you  when  you  go  down  atradin'  i^th  the  be- 
nighted colonists  in  the  outlandish  British  provinces.  The 
road  to  the  head  lies  through  the  heart.  Pocket,  you  mean, 
instead  of  head,  I  guess,  said  1 ;  and  if  you  don't  travel  that 
road  full  chissel  it's  a  pity. — Well,  says  I,  Ahab,  when  I  go 
to  Slickville  I'll  gist  tell  Mr.  Hopewell  what  a  most  precious, 


superfine,  superior  darn'd  rascal  you  have  turned  put ;  if  you 
ain't  No.  1,  letter  A,  I  want  to  know  who  is,  that's  all. 


i 


mmm 


H 


THB  OLOOKKABSR. 


>do  teat  <ll,  Sam,  and  hd ;  ii^uihe  gjftUm  tkaf$  tiei^,  and 
mi  f&e  preaekir.  If  I  didn't  give  'em  the  soft  iiwder  they 
wodld  Blither  pay  me  nor  hear  me  $  that's  a  fiu$t.  Ate  yon 
so  soft  in,  the  horn  now,  Sam,  as  to  suppose  that  the'^sals 
would  take  the  trouble  to  come  to  hear  me  tell  'em  of  th«r 
corrupt  natur'  and  ftdlen  oonditicm ;  and  first  thank  me,  and 
then  pay  me  for  itt  Very  entertainin'  that  to  tell  'em  the 
worms  will  ftttten  on  their  pretty  little  rosy  cheeks,  and  that 
their  sweet  plump  flesh  is  nothin^  hut  grass,  flourishin*  to-day, 
and  to  be  cut  down  withered  and  rotten  to>morrow;  ain't  it? 
It  ain't  hi  the  natur'  o'  things,  if  I  put  them  out  o'  concait 
o'  themselves,  I  can  put  them  in  concait  o'  me ;  or  that  they 
Will  come  down  hanasomo,  and  do  the  thing  ginteel,  its  gist 
onpossible.  It  wam't  me  made  the  system,  but  the  system 
made  me.     The  voluntary  don*t  tDorle  tcell. 

System  or  no  system,  said  I,  Ahab,  you  ar6  Ahab  still,  and 
Ahab  you'll  be  to  the  eend  o'  the  chapter.  You  may  decaive 
the  wom^  by  soft  sawder,  and  yourself  by  talkin'  about  sys- 
tems, but  you  won't  walk  into  me  so  easy,  I  know.  It  am*t 
pretty  at  all.'^  Now,  said  I,  Ahab,  I  told  you  I  wouldn't  blow 
you,  nor  will  I.  I  will  neither  speak  o'  things  past  nor  things 
present.  I  know  you  wouldn't,  Sam,  said  be;  you  were 
always  a  good  feller.  But  it's  on  one  condition,  says  I,  Mid 
that  is  that  you  allov^  Polly  Bieicon  a  hundred  dollars  a-year 
-MBhe  was  a  gooi  gall  and  a  decent  gall  when  you  first 
know'd  her,  and  R!ie's  in  great  distress  now  to  Slickville,  I  tell 
you.  That's  onfair,  that's  onkind,  Sam,  said  he ;  that's  not 
the  clean  thing ;  I  can't  afiford  it ;  it's  a  breach  o'  confidence 
this,  but  you  got  me  on  the  hip,  and  L can't  help  myself;  say 
fifty  dollars,  and  I  will.  Done,  said  I,  and  mind  you're  up  to 
the  notch,  for  I'm  in  earnest'*- 'there's  no  mistake.  t)epend 
upon  me,  said  he,  and,  Sam,  said  he,  a  shakin'  hands  along 
with  me  at  partin',— excuse  me,  my  good  feller,  but  I  hope  I 
may  never  have  the  pleasure  to  see  your  face  ag'in.  Ditto, 
says  I ;  but  mind  the  fifty  dollars  a-year,  or  you  will  see  me 
to  a  sartainty — ^good  b*ye* 

How  difterent  this  cussed  critter  was*  from  poor,  dear,  good, 
old  Joshua  Hopewell.  I  seed  him  not  long  arter.  On  my  re- 
turn to  Connecticut,  gist  as  I  was  apassin'  out  c'  Molasses  into 
Onion  County,  who  should  I  meet  but  minister  amounted  upon 
his  horse,  old  Captain  Jack.  Jack  was  a  racker,  and  in  his 
day  about  as  good  a  beast  as  ever  hoisted  tail,  (you  know  what 
a  racker  is,  don't  you  squire  ?  said  the  clockmaker ;  they  bring 


THE   VOLUMTAUT  8YSTJBM. 


17 


up  the  two  feet  on  one  side  first,  together  like,  and  then  t*o^r 
two  at  once,  the  same  way ;  and  they  do  get  over  the  gioUiMl 
at  a  most  an  amazin'  size,  that's  sartin,)  but  poor  oid  critter, 
he  looked  pretty  streak'd.  You  could  count  his  ribs  as  far  as 
you  could  see  him,  and  his  skin  was  drawn  so  tight  over  him* 
ev^jry  blow  of  mmister's  cane  on  him  sounded  like  a  drum,  he 
was  so  holler.  A  candle  poked  into  him  lighted  would  have 
shown  through  him  like  a  lantern.  Hq  carried  his  head  down 
to  his  knees,  and  the  hide  seem'd  so  scant  a  pattern,  he  showed 
his  teeth  like  a  cross  dog,  and  it  started  his  eyes  and  made 
'em  look  all  outside  like  a  weasel's.  He  actilly  did  look  as 
if  he  couldn't  help  it.  Minister  'had  two  bags  roll'd  up  and 
,  tied  on  behind  him,  like  a  portmanter,  and  was  ajojmng  on 
alookin'  down  on  his  horse,  and  the  horse  alookin'^wn  on 
the  road,  as  if  he  was  seekin'  a«ofl  spot  to  tumble  down  upon. 

It  was  curious  to  see  Captain  Jack  too,  when  he  heerd  old 
Clay  acoming  along  full  split  behind  him ;  he  cpck'd  up  his 
head  and  tail,  and  prick'd  up  his  ears,  and  look'd  comer  ways 
out  of  his  eye,  as  much  as  to  say,  if  you  are  for  a  lick  of  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  I  don't  feel  much  up  to  it,  but  I'll  try  you 
any  way ; — so  here's  at  you.  Hb  did  try  to  do  pretty,  that's 
sartin,  as  if  he  was  ashamed  of  looking  so  like  Old  Scratchy 
gist  as  a  feller  does  up  the  shirt-collar  and  combs  his  hair  with 
his  fingers,  afore  he  goes  into  the  room  among  the  galls. 

The  poor  skilliton  of  a  beast  was  ginger  to  the  backbone, 
you  may  depend — all-clear  grit ;  what  there  was  of  him  was 
whalebone ;  that's  a  fact.  But  minister  had  no  rally  abottt 
kirn ;  he  was  proper  chap-fallen,  and  looked  as  dismal  as  if 
he  had  lost  every  friend  that  he  had  on  airth.  Why,  minister, 
says  I,  what  onder  the  sun  is  t|jB  matter  of  y(Hi  ?  You  and 
Captain  Jack  look  as  if  you  had  the  cholera ;  what  makes 
you  so  dismal  and  your  horse  so  thin?  what's  out  o' joint 
now?  Nothin'  gone  wrong,  I  hope,  since  I  left?  Nethin' 
has  gone  right  with  me,  bam,  of  late,  said  he;  I've  been 
sorely  tried  with  affliction,  and  my  spirit  is  fairly  humbled. 
I've  been  more  insulted  this  day,  my  son,  than  I  ever  was 
afore  in  all  my  bom  days.  Minister,  says  I,  I've  gist  one 
favour  to  ax  o'  you ;  give  me  the  sinner's  name,  and  afore 
daybreak  to-morrow  mornin'  I'll  bring  him  to  a  reck'nin'  and 
see  how  the  balance  stands.  I'll  kick  him  from  here  to  Wash- 
ington, and  from  Washington  back  to  Slickville,  and  then  I'll 
cow-skin  him,  till  this  riding-whip  is  worn  up  to  shoe-strings, 
and  pitch  him  clean  out  o'  the  State.  The  infarnal  villain  I 
2* 


tfltmnmfimmmmmm^ 


\ 


18 


TRB  Ct.O0X*<4KfiH. 


Mffi 


I  I 


tell  me  who  he  is*  and  If  he  war  ae  big  as  all  eut-dooff,  Pd 
walk  into  him.  Pll  teach  him  the  road  to  flood  manaera,  if 
he  can  save  eyesight  to  see  it,— hang  me  if  I  don*t.  Pd  like 
no  better  ftm,  I  vow.  Bo  gist  show  me  the  man,  thai  darit 
insult  ydu,  and  if  he  does  so  ag*in,  V\\  give  you  leave  to  tdl 
me  of  it.  Thank  you,  Sam,  says  he;  thank  you,  my  boy, 
but  it*8  beyond  your  help.  It  ain*t  a  personal  aflVont  of  that 
natur*,  but  a  spiritual  affront,  h  ain*t  an^  affront  oiBkped  to  me 
as  Joshua  Hopewell,  so  much  as  an  affiront  to  the  minister  of 
Slickville'.  That  is  worse  still,  said  I,  because  you  can't 
resent  it  yourself.  Leave  him  to  rhe,  and  Til  fix  his  flint 
for  him. 

It's  a  long  story,  Sam,  and  one  to  raise  grief,  but  not  anger ;  * 
-«you  musn't  talk  or  think  of  fightin',  it's  not  becoming  a 
Christian  man,  but  here's  m^  poor  habitation,  put  up  your 
horse  and  come  irt,  and  we'll  talk  this  aflkir  over  by  and  by. 
Come  in  and  see  me, — 'for,  sick  es  I  im,  both  in  body  and 
mind,  it  will  do  me  good.  You  was  a)  <7ays  a  kind-hearted 
boy,  Sam,  and  I'm  glad  to  see  the  heart  m  the  right  place 
yet ;— come  in,  my  son.  Well,  when  we  got  into  the  houses 
and  flfot  do  n,— ^says  I,  minister,  what  the  dickens  ^as  them 
two  great  rolle  o'  canvttM  for,  I  cteed  snugg'd  up  and  tied  to 
your  crupper?  Tou  looked  like  a  man  who  had  taken  his 
grist  to  mill,  and  was  neturnin''  with  the  bags  for  another ;  and 
what  6nder  the  sun  had  you  in  them?  I'll  tell  you,  Sam,  snid 
he, — you  know,  said  he,— -when  you  was  to  hCme,  we  had  a 
State  Tax  for  the  support  o'  the  church,  and  every  man  had 
to  pay  his  share  to  some  church  or  another.  I  mind,  said  I, 
quite  well.  Well,  said  he,  the  inimy  of  souls  has  been  to 
work  among  us,  and  instigated  folks  to  think  this  was  too 
compulsory  for  a  fVee  people,  clhd  smelt  too'  strong  of  estab- 
lishments, and  the  legislatur'  repealed  the  law ;  so  now,  in- 
stead o'  havin'  a  rigilar  legal  stipind,  we  have  what  they  call 
the  voluntary, — every  man  pays  what  he  likes,  when  he  likes, 
and  to  whom  he  likes,  or  if  it  don't  convene  him  he  pays 
nothin' ; — do  you  apprehend  me  ?  As  clear  as  a  boot-jack, 
says  I ;  nothin'  could  be  plainer,  and  I  euppose  that  some  o' 
your  factory  people  that  make  canvass  have  given  you  a  pre- 
i^ent  of  two  rolls  of  it  to  make  bags  to  hold  your  pay  in  ? 
My  breeches'  pockets,  says  he,  Sam,  ashakin'  o'  his  head,  I 
estimate,  are  big  enough  for  that.  No,  Sam ;  some  subscribe 
and  some  don't.  Some  say,  we'll  give,  but  we'll  not  bind 
ourselves ; — and  some  say,  we'll  see  about  it.    Well,  I'm  e*«i 


:^: 


ftU  out-doors,  Fd 
good  imniwn,  if 
Idoa*t.  Fdliho 
»  man,  thM  dmm 
you  leaTo  to  tdl 
ink  you,  my  boy, 
al  affiront  of  that 
out  offtred  to  mb 
o  the  minister  erf* 
<:au8e  you  can't 

ril  fix  his  flint 

sf,  but  not  anger ;« 
not  becoming  a 
on,  put  up  your 
over  by  and  by. 
both  in  body  and 
r  a  kind-hearted 
the  right  place 
:  into  the  house, 
ckens  "^vas  them 
i  up  and  tied  to 
>  had  taken  his 
or  another ;  and 
you,  Sam,  said 
me,  We  had  a 
ivcry  man  had 
I  mind,  said  I, 
lis  has  been  to 
this  was  too 
rong  of  estab- 
;  so  now,  in- 
hat  they  call 
M'hen  he  likes, 
him  be  pays 
|s  a  boot-jack, 
that  some  o* 


TBI  VObUMTAllT  STSTKH. 


10 


almost  starved,  and  Captain  Jack  does  look  as  poor  as  Job's 
turkey ;  tbat's  a  ftot.  So  I  thought,  as  times  was  bard»  1^ 
take  the  bags  and  get  some  oats  ibr  him,  fiom  boom  of  o^y 
subsoribin'  congreoation  i — ^it  would  saVe  them  the  ca^,  mm 
suit  me  gist  as  well  as  the  blunt.  Wherever  I  went)  1  might 
have  filled  my  bags  with  exouses,  but  I  got  no  oats  ;->-but  that 
wam't  the  worst  of  it  neither,  they  turned  the  tables  on  me 
and  took  me  to  tas)»>  A  new  thing  that  for  me,  I  guess,  in 
my  old  afle,  to  stand  up  to  be  cat^ised  like  a  o6nvaned  Kju- 
then.  Why  don't  you,  says  one,  jine  the  Temperance  Socio* 
ty,  minister  ?  Because,  says  I,  there's  no  warrant  for  it  in 
Scriptur',  as  I  see.  A  Christian  obligation  to  sobriety  is,  in 
my  mind,  afore  any  engagement  on  honour.  Can't  think, 
says  he,  of  payin*  to  a  minister  that  countenances  drunken- 
nes84  Says  another,— ^minister,  do  you  smoke  ?  Yes,  saya 
I,  I  do  sometimes ;  and  I  don't  care  if  I  take  a  pipe  along 
with  you  now  ; — it  seems  sociable  like.  Well,  says  he,  it's 
an  abase  o'  the  oritter, — a  waste  o'  valuable  time,  and  an  en- 
oounigsment  of  slavery ;  I  o^^n't  pay  to  upholders  of  the 
slave  system ;  I  go  the  whole  figur'  for  abolition.  One  found 
me  too  Calviaialie,  and  another  too  Arminian ;  one  objected 
to  my  praying  fot  the  President,'^for,  he  said,  Mb  was  an 
everlastm'  almigltfy  rascal ;— anothef  to  my  wearin'  a  gown, 
for  it  was  too  Popisbi  In  short,  I  gk  nothin'  but  objections 
to  a'most  every  thing  I  do  or  say,  and  I  see  considerable  pbdn 
my  income  is  gone ;  I  may  work  for  nothin'  and  find  thread 
now,  if  I  chooser  The  only  one  that  paid  me,  cheated  me- 
Says  be,  minister,  I've  been  alookin'  for  you  for  some  time 
past,  to  pay  my  contribution,  and  I  laid  by  twenty  dollars  for 
you.  Thank  you,  sttid  I,  friend,  but  that  is  more  than  your 
share ;  ten  ddlars,  I  think,  is  the  amount  of  your  subwcrip- 
tion.  Well,  says  he^  I  know  that,  but  I  like  to  do  things  hand- 
sum',  and  he  who  gives  to  a  minister  lends  to  the  Lord ; — ^but, 
says  he,  I'm  afeer'd  it  won't  turn  out  so  much  now,  for  the 
bank  has  fail'd  since.  It's  a  pity  you  hadi^t  acali'd  afore,  but 
you  must  take  the  will  for  the  deed.  And  he  banded  me  a 
roll  of  the  Bubble  Bank  paper,  that  ain't  worth  a  cent.  Are 
you  sure,  said  I,  that  you  put  this  aside  for  me  when  it  Was 
good  ?  O  sartain,  says  h^,  I'll  take  my  oath  of  it.  There's 
no  'casion  for  that,  says  I,  my  friend,  nor  for  me  to  take  im>re 
than  my  due  neither ; — here  are  teii  of  them  back  again.  I 
hope  you  may  not  lose  them  altogether,  as  I  fear  I  shall.  But 
he  cheated  me, — I  knoy  he  did. 


.^ 


90 


THB  OLOCKMAXjn. 


This  i»  the  blesfin*  of  the  voluntary,  aa  far  as  Vm  consaroad* 
Now  ril  tell  you  how  it*B  asoin*  to  work  upon  them;  not 
tnrough  my  agency  tho\  for  Pd  die  first ;— afore  Vd  do  a  wrong 
thinjg  to  gain  the  whole  univarsal  world.  But  what  aro^you 
adoin*  o^  "Stun,  said  he*  acrackin'  of  that  whip  so,  says  he ; 
youMl  e*en  amost  deefen  me.  Atryin*  of  the  apnos  of  iU 
says  I.  The  night  afore  I  go  down  to  Nova  Scotia,  nl  teach 
'em  Connecticut  quick^step— ru  lorn  *en  to  make  somersets 
— I'll  make  'cm  cut  more  capers  than  tne  caravan  monkey 
ever. could  to  save  his  scul  alive,  I  know.  I'll  quilt  'em,  aa 
true  as  my  name  is  Sam  Slick;  and  if  they  fbller  me  down 
east,  I'll  lambaste  them  back  a  plaguy  sight  quicker  than  they 
earner  the  nasty,  dirty,  mean,  sneaking  villains.  I'll  play 
them  a  voluntary — I'll  fa  la  sol  them,  to  a  jig  tune,  and  show 
'em  how  to  count  baker's,  dozen.  Crack,  crack,  crack,  that's 
the  music,  minister ;  crack,  crack,  crack,  I'll  set  all  SlickviUe 
ayelpin' ! 

I'm  in  trouble  enough,  Sam,  says  he,  without  addin'  that 
are  to  it ;  don't  quite  break  my  heart,  for  such  carryin's  on 
would  near  a||Out  kill  me.  Let  the  poor  deluded  cntters  be» 
promise  me  now.  Well,  well,  says  I,  if  you  say  so  it  sha\l 
be  so ; — but  I  must  say,  I  long  to  be  at  'em.  But  how  is  tho 
voluntary  agbin'  for  to  operate  on  them  ?  Emitic,  diuretic,  or 
purgative,  en  ?  I  hope  it  will  be  all  three,  and  turn  them  in- 
side out,  the  ungrateful  scoundrils,  and  yet  not  be  gist  strong 
enough  to  turn  them  back  ag'in.  Sam  you're  an  altered  man, 
says  he.  It  appears  to  me  the  whole  world  is  changed.  Don't 
talk  so  on-Christian :  we  must  forget  and  foi^ve.  They  will 
be  the  greatest  sufllrers  themselves,  poor  critters,  havin' 
destroyed  the  independence  of  their  minister, — ^their  minister 
will  pander  to  their  vanity.  He  will  be  afoer'd  to  tell  them ' 
unpalatable  truths.  Instead  of  tellin'  'em  they  are  miserable 
sinners  in  need  of  repentance,  he  will  tell  'em  they  are  a  great 
nation  and  a  great  people,  will  quote  more  history  than  the 
Bible,  and  give  'em  orations  not  sarmons,  encomiums  and  not 
censures.  Presents,  Sam,  will  bribe  indulgences.  Tke  mn- 
ister  will  be  a  dum  dog  I  P  sarves  'em  right,  says  I ;  I  don't 
care  wh&t  becomes  of  them.  I  hope  they  will  be  dnm.  dogs, 
for  dum  dogs  bite,  and  if  they  drive  you  mad, — as  I  believ^^ 
from  my  soul  they  will, — ^I  hope  you'll  bite  every  one  on  'em. 

But,  eays  I,  minister,  talkin'  of  presents,  I've  got  one  for 
you  that's  somethin'  like  the  thing,  I  know;  and  I  took  out 
my  pocket-book  and  gave  him  a  hundred  dollars.  I  hope 
I  may  be  shot  if  I  didn't.    I  felt  so  sorry  for  him. 


TRAIiriirO  A  CARRIBOO. 


81 


Who's  thii  fromT  nitd  he,  ■milin*.    From  AIaImiim,  tiid 


too  much  obligation.  Pre$eHi9  <f  moHi$  ii^fvn  httk  iki  giwet 
Md  rteihert  and  deHroif  the  iquUibtium  effiititdddpt  and 
dimimih  Mtpendenee  dnd  nf-rtnitt:  butVi  aR  rights  it 
will  enable  me  to  find  neishSoui^  Deairbouni'i  two  aona  to 
gchool.  It  will  do  g6od.  *Cute  little  fallen  them,  Sim,  and 
will  make  eofMideraUe  smart  men,  if  they  are  propeily  ieed 
to ;  but  the  old  gentleman,  their  father,  is,  like  myself,  nearly 
used  up,  and  platfuy  poor.  Thinks  I,  if  that*s  your  sort,  oUI 
gentleman,  I  wish  I  nad  my  hundred  dollars  in  my  pocket- 
book  ag*in,  as  snug  as  a  bug  in  a  rug,  and  i^eighbour  ttoalr-" 
boum*s  two  sons  might  go  and  whistle  fbr  ihiir  schodlu*. 
Who  the  plague  cares  whether  they  have  any  laming  or  nott 
Vm  sure  I  don't.  It's  the  first  of' the  voluntary  system  Tve 
tried,  and  Pm  sure  it  will  be  the  last. 

Ye»t  ye»t  sftiire,  the  volunUtry  don't  work  Mfellt-^haft  a 

fya.    A^b  has  lost  his  soul  to  save  his  body,  minitter  hoe 

hit  his  body  to  save  his  soul^  and  Fte  lost  my  hundred  dollars 

slap  to  sate  my  feelins*,  TTte  duce  take  the  tolutUary,  t  aity. 


CHAPTER  III. 


TRAINING  A  CARRIBOa 


In  the  evening  we  sauntered  out  on  the  bank  of  the  riverf 
Mr.  Slick  taking  his  rifle  with  him,  to  shoot  blue>winged  duck, 
that  often  float  up  the  Avon  with  the  tide  in  great  numbers. 
He  made  several  shots  with  remarkable  accuracy,  but  having 
no  dogs  we  lost  all  the  birds,  but  two,  in  the  eddies  of  this 
rapid  river.  It  was  a  delightful  evening,  and  on  our  return 
we  ascended  the  cliff  that  overlooks  the  village  and  the  sur- 
rounding  country,  and  sat  down  on  the  projecting  point  of 
limestone  rock,  to  enjoy  the  glories  of  the  sunset. 

This  evenin',  said  Mr.  Slick,  reminds  me  of  one  I  spent  the 
a«me  way  at  Toronto,  in  Upper  Canada,  and  of  a  conversa- 
tion I  had  with  a  British  traveller  there.  There  was  only 
himself  and  me  at  the  inn,  and  havin'  nothin'  above  paiftikilar 
to  do,  says  I,  'spose  we  take  the  rifle  and  walk  down  by  tho 


fi  TBB  OLOCKMAKER. 

lake  this  splendid  afternoon ;  who  knovrs  but  we  mtght*^ 
•omethin*  or  another  to  shoot  1  So  oflT  we  sot,  and  it  was  so 
cool  and  pleasant  we  stroird  a  considerable  distauce  up  the 
beach,  which  is  like  this,  all  limestone  gravel,  only  clmer 
and  less  sedement  in  H.  , 

When  we  got  tired  of  the  stare  of  the  water,  and  a  nasty 
yallor  scum  that  was  on  it  at  that  season,  we  turned  up  a  road 
that  led  into  the  woods.  Wh^,  says  I,  if  there  ain*t  a  Carri- 
boo,  as  I'm  alive.  Where?  said  he*  seizin'  the  rifles  and 
bringin'  it  to  his  shoulder  with  great  eagerness, — ^where  is  it  ? 
for  heaven's  sake  let  me  have  a  shot  at  it  1  I  have  long  wish^, 
said  he,  to  have  it  to  say,  before  I  leave  the  province,  that  I 
had  performed  that  feat  of  killin'  a  Carriboo.  Oh,  Lord  I  said 
I,  throwin'  up  the  point  of  the  gun  to  prevent  an  accident,-* 
Oh,  Lord !  it  ain't  one  o'  them  are  sort  o'  critters  at  all ;  it*8 
a  human  Carriboo.  It's  a  member,  him  that's  in  that  are  jgig, 
lookin'  as  wise  as  a  barber's  block  with  a  new  wig  on  it.  The 
Toronto  folks  call  'em  Carriboos,  'equse  they  are  untamed 
wild  critters  from  the  woods,  and  come  down  in  droves  to  the 
legislatur'.  I  guess  he's  asoin'  to  spend  the  night  to  the  hotel, 
where  we  be ;  if  he  is^  I'll  brine  him  into  our  room  and  train 
him :  you'll  see  what  sort  o'  folks  makes  laws  sometimes.  I 
do  believe,  arter  all,  says  I,  this  univarsal  sufirage  will  make 
univarsal  fools  of  us  all ; — it  ain't  one  man  in  a  thousand 
knows  how  to  choose  a  horse,  much  less  a  member,  and  yet 
there  are  some  standin'  rules  about  the  horse,  that  most  anv 
one  can  lam,  if  he*ll  give  his  mind  to  it.  There's  the  mark 
o'  mouth, — then  there's  the  limbs,  shape,  make,  and  sounc^ 
ness  of  'em ;  the  eye,  the  shoulder,  and,  above  all,  the  action. 
It  seems  all  plain  enough,  and  yet  it  takes  a  considerable  'cite 
man  to  make  a  horse-jockey,  and  a  little  grain  of  the  rogue 
too ;  for  there  is  no  mistake  about  the  mattejT — you  must  lie  a 
few  to  put  'em  off  well.  Now,  that's  only  the  lowest  grade 
of  knowledge.  It  takes  more  skill  yet  to  be  a  nigger  jockey. 
A  nigger-jockey,  said  he ;  for  heaven's  sake,  what  is  that  7  I 
never  heer'd  the  term  afore,  since  I  was  a  created  sinner — I 
hope  I  may  be  shot  if  I  did.  Possible,  said  I,  never  heer'd 
tell  of  a  nigger-jockey !  My  sakes,  you  must  come  to  the 
States  then ; — we'll  put  more  wrinkles  on  your  horns  in  a 
month  than  you'll  get  in  twenty  years  here,  for  these  critters 
don't  know  nothin'.  A  nigger-jockey,  sir,  says  I,  is  a  gentle- 
man that  trades  in  niggers, — buys  them  in  one  State,  and  sells 
them  in  another,  where  they  ar'n't  known.    It's  a  beautiful 


TRAlNIiro   A  OARRIBOOw  li 

■cience,  is  nigagot  fleth ;  it*«  what  the  lawyers  call  a  liberal 
profeMion.  Uncle  Enoch  made  enough  in  one  year*a  tradin* 
in  niggera  to  buy  a  aplendid  plantation ;  but  it  ain*t  every  on* 
tl«t*s  up  to  it.  A  roan  muat  have  hii  eye  teeth  cut  afore  he 
takea  up  that  trade,  or  he  ia  apt  to  be  let  in  for  it  himaelfi  in- 
stead or  puttin|[  a  leake  into  others ;  that*8  a  fact.  Niggera 
don't  show  their  aoe  like  white  folk,  and  they  are  roost  always 
older  than  they  lo&.  A  little  rest,  ilein*  the  joints,  good  feed, 
a  clean  shirt,  a  false  tooth  or  two,  and  dyin*  the  wool  black 
if  it*s  got  gray,  keepin*  'em  close  shav'd,  and  gist  given'  'em 
a  gluss  'o  whiskey  or  two  afore  the  sale,  to  brighten  up  the 
eye,  had  put  off  many  an  old  nigger  of  fifly>five  for  forty.  It 
does  more  than  trimmin'  and  groomin'  a  horse,  by  a  long 
chalk.  Then  if  a  man  knows  geoeraphy,  he  fixes  on  a  spot 
in  the  next  State  for  meetin'  ag'in,  slips  a  few  dollars  in  Sam- 
bo's hand,  and  Sambo  dips  the  haller  off  in  the  manser,  meets 
massa  there,  and  is  sold  a  second  time  ag'in.  Wash  the  dye 
out,  let  the  beard  grow,  and  remove  the  tooth,  and  the  devil 
himself  couldn't  swear  to  him  ag'in. 

If  U  takeM  so  much  knowledge  to  ehoote  a  hortet  or  choom 
A  nigge"^  what  mutt  it  ttike  to  ckooae  a  member? — ^Who 
kuows  he  won't  give  the  people  the  slip  as  Sambo  does  the 
first  master ;  ay,  and  look  as  dififerent  too,  as  a  niff^r  does, 
when  the  dye  rubs  out,  and  his  black  wool  looks  white  ag'in. 
Ah,  squire,  there  are  tricks  in  all  trades,  I  do  believe,  except 
the  clock  trade.  The  nigger  business,  says  I,  is  apt  to  get  a 
man  into  court,  too,  as  much  as  the  horse  trade,  if  he  don't 
know  the  quirks  of  the  law.  I  shall  never  forget  a  joke  I 
passed  ofir  once  on  a  Southerner.  I  had  been  down  to 
Charleston,  South  Carr,  where  brother  Siah  is  located  aa  a 
lawyer,  and  drives  a  considerable  business  in  that  line.  Well* 
one  day  as  I  was  awalkin'  along  out  o'  town,  asmokin*  of  my 
cigar,  who  should  I  meet  but  a  poor  old  nigger,  with  a'most 
an  almighty  heavy  load  of  pine- wood  on  his  back,  as  much  as 
he  could  cleverly  stagger  onder.  Why,  Sambo,  said  I,  whose 
slave  be  you  ?  You've  got  a  considerable  of  a  heavy  load 
there  for  a  man  of  your  years.  Oh,  Massa,  says  he,  6or 
Ormighty  bless  you  (and  he  laid  down  his  load,  and  puttin' 
one  hand  on  his  loins,  and  t'other  on  his  thigh,  he  tried  to 
straighten  himself  up.)  I  free  man  now,  I  no  longer  slave  no 
more.  I  purchased  my  freedom  from  Gineral  Crocodile,  him 
that  keeps  public  at  Mud  Creek.  Oh,  Massa,  but  him  gineral 
took  me  in  terrible,  by  gosh !    Sajrs  he,  Pompey,  says  he, 


\ 


- .  ■"■.'■•*: 


84 


THS  CLOQKMAKBR. 


r^    \ 


\ 


you  one  wenry  good  nigger,  werry  faithful  nigger.  I  great 
opinion  of  you,  Pompey ;  I  make  a  man  of  you,  you  dam  old 
tar-brush.  I  hope  I  may  be  skinned  alive  with  wild  cats  if  I 
don't.  How  much  money  you  save,  Pomp  ?  Hunder  dollars, 
says  I.  Well,  says  he,  I  will  sell  you  your  freedom  for  that 
are  little  sum.  Oh,  massa  gineral,  I  said,  I  believe  I  lib  and 
die  wid  you ; — what  old  man  like  me  do  now  ?  I  too  old  for 
freeman.  O  no,  massa,  leab  poor  old  Pomp  to  die  among '  de 
niggers.  I  tend  young  massa  Gineral  and  little  missy  Gine- 
ral, and  teach  'em  how  to  cow-skin  de  black  \  lllains.  Oh, 
you  smart  man  yet,  he  says, — qmtQ  aoundy  werry  smart  man, 
you  aim  a  great  deal  o'  money : — I  too  great  regard  for  you 
to  keep  you  sls^e  any  longer.  Well,  he  persuade  me  at  last, 
and  I  buy  freedom,  and  now  I  starve.  I  hab  no  one  to  take 
care  ob  me  now;  I  old  and  good  for  nothin' — I  wish  old 
Pomp  very  much  dead; — and  he  boohood  right  out  like  a 
child.  *  Then  he  sold  you  to  yourself,  did  he  1  Yes,  massa, 
said  he,  and  here  de  paper  and  de  bill  ob  sale.  And  he  tdld 
you  you  sound  man  yet  ?  True,  massa,  ebbcry  word.  Then, 
says  I,  come  along  with  me ;  and  I  toated  him  along  into 
Siah's  office.  Sy,  says  I,  here's  a  job  for  you.  Gineral 
Crocodile  sold  this  poor  old  nigger  to  himself,  and  warrinted 
him  Mund  wind  and  limb.  He  cheated  him  like  a  cantin'  hy- 
pocritical sinner  as  he  is,  for  he's  foundered  in  his  right  foot, 
and  ringboned  on  the  left.  Sue  him  on  his  warranty— there's 
some  fun  in't. — Fun,  said  Sy,  I  tell  you  it's  a  capital  joke ; 
and  he  jump'd  up  and  danced  round  his  office  asnappin'  of  his 
Angers,  as  if  he  were  bit  by  a  galley-nipper.  How  it  will 
eomflustrigate  old  Sim  Ileter,  the  judge,  won't  it  1  I'll  bam- 
bousle  hinj,  I'll  befogify  his  brain  for  him  with  warranties 
general,  special,  and  implied,  texts,  notes,  and  comentries. 
I'll  lead  him  a  dance  through  civil  law,  and  common  law,  and 
statute  law ;  I'll  read  old  Latin,  old  French,  and  old  English 
to  him ;  I'll  make  his  head  turn  like  a  mill-stone ;  I'll  make 
him  stare  like  an  owl  atrying  to  read  by  day-light ;  and  he 
larfed  ready  to  kill  himself.  Sure  enough  he  did  bother  him 
so  agoin'  up  from  one  court  to  another,  that  Crocodile  was 
glad  to  compound  the  matter  to  get  clear  of  the  joke,  and 
paid  old  Pomp  his  hundred  dollars  back  again  ;  that's  a  fact. 

In  the  courvse  of  the  evenin',  Mr.  Buck,  the  member  elect 
for  the  township  of  Flats,  in  the  Home  district,  canrje  in,  and 
I  introduced  him  with  much  ceremony  to  the  Britisher,  agivin* 
of  him  a  wink  at  the  same  time,  as  much  as  to  say,  now  I'll 


i    ., 


TRAHnHd  A  CARHtBOa 

show  you  the  way  to  train  a  Carriboo.    Well,  Squire  Buck, 
said  I,  I  vow  Vm  glad  to  see  you ; — how  did  you  leave  Mrs. 
Buck  and  all  to  home  ? — all  well,  I  hope  ?    Reasonable  well, 
I  give  you  thanks,  sir,  said  he.    And  so  they've  elected  you 
a  member,  eh  ?    Well,  they  wanted  some  honest  men  among 
'em — that's  a  fact,  and  some  onderstandin'  men  too ;  how  do  ' 
you  go,  Tory  or  Radical  1     Oh,  pop'lar  side  of  course,  said 
Mr.  Buck.     M'Kenzie  and  Papinau  have  open'd  my  eyes  [  tell 
you ;  I  had  no  notion  afore  our  government  was  so  rotten — 
I'm  for  elective  councils,  short  parliaments,  ballot,  universal 
sufirage,  and  ag'in  all  officials.    Right,  said  I,  you  are  on  the 
right  side  then,  and  no  mistake.     You've  a  plain  path  afore 
you  ;  go  straight  ahead,  and  there's  no  fear.     I  should  like  to 
do  so,  said  he,  but  I  don't  understand  these  matters  enough, 
I'm  afeer'd,  to  probe  'em  to  the  bottom ;  perhaps  you'll  be  so 
good  as  to  advise  me  a  little.     I  should  like  to  talk  over  these 
things  with  you,  as  they  say  you  are  a  considerable  of  an  on- 
derstandin' man,  and  have  seed  a  good  deal  of  the  world. 
Well,  said  I,  nothin'  would  hapify  me  more,  I  do  assure  you. 
Be  independent,  that's  the  great  thing ;  be  independent,  that 
is,  attack  every  thing.  First  of  all,  there's  the  Church ;  that's 
a  grand  target,  fire  away  at  that  till  you  are  tired.     Raise  a 
prejudice  ^  you  can,  and  then  make  every  thing  a  Church 
I  question.    But  I'm  a  churchman  myself,  Mr.  Slick ;  and  you 
wouldn't  have  me  attack  my  own  church,  would  you  ?    So 
much  the  better,  said  I,  it  looks  liberal ; — true  liberality f  <u 
Ifar  as  my  experience  goes,  lies  in  praisin*  every  other 
church,  and  abusin'  of  your  own  ;  it's  only  bigots  that  attacks 
other  follA'  doctrine  and  tenets ;  no  strong-minded,  straight 
ahead,  right  up  and  down  man  does  that.    It  shows  a  narrer 
mind  and  narrer  heart  that.    But  what  fault  is  there  with  the 
church?  said  he:  they  mind  their  own  business,  as  far  as  I 
see,  and  let  other  folks  alone ;  they  have  no  privilege  here 
[that  I  know  on,  that  other  sects  ha'en't  got.     It's  pop'lar  talk 
[among  some  folks,  and  that's  enough,  said  I.    They  are  rich, 
land  their  clergy  are  larned  and  genteel,  and  there's  a  good 
jmany  envious  people  in  the  world ; — there's  radicals  in  reli- 
Igion  as  well  as  in  politics,  that  would  like  to  see  'em  e't 
[brought  to  a  level.     And  then  there's  church  lands:  talk 
[about  dividin'  them /among  other  sects,  givin'  them  to  schools, 
land  so  on.    There's  no  harm  in  robbing  Peter  if  you  pay 
Paul  with  it — a  fair  exchange  is  no  robbery,  all  the  world 
[over ;  then  wind  up  with  a  church  tithe  sale,  and  a  military 
3 


26 


TRB  CLOOKMAKBR. 


massacre  of  a  poor  dissentin*  old  woman  that  was  baganuted 
by  bloody-r.  Jnded  sodgers  while  tryin'  to  save  her  pig.  It 
Will  make  an  afl^tin*  speech,  draw  tears  from  tho  gallery, 
and  thunders  of  applause  from  the  House. 

1?hen  there*s  judges,  another  grand  mark ;  and  councHlors 
and  ri(ih  men ;  call  *em  the  little  big  men  of  a  little  colcHny. 
the  would-be  aristocracy — ^the  official  gang — ^the  favour'd 
few ;  call  'em  by  their  Christian  and  surnames ;  John  Den 
and  Richard  Fen,  turn  up  your  noses  at  *em  like  a  horse's 
tail  that's  double-nick'd.  Salaries  are  a  never-ending  theme 
for  you;  officials  shouldn't  be  paid  at  all;  the  honour  is 
enough  for  'em;  a  patriot  sarves  his  country  for  nothin. 
Take  some  big  salary  for  a  text,  and  treat  it  this  way :  says 
you,  there's  John  Doe's  salary,  it  is  seven  hundred  and  thirty 
pounds  a  year,  that  is  two  pounds  a  day.  Now,  says  you, 
that  is  sixteen  common  labourers'  pay  at  two  and  six-pence 
each  per  day ; — shall  it  be  said  that  one  great  mammoth  offi- 
cial is  worth  sixteen  free  citizens  who  toil  harder  and  fare 
worse  th.m  he  does  ?  then  take  his  income  for  ten  years  and 
multiply  it.  See,  says  you,  in  ten  years  he  has  received  the 
enormous  sum  of  seven  thousand  five  hundred  pounds :  then 
nm  over  all  the  things  seven  thousaQd  five  hundred  pounds 
would  efiect  on  roads,  bridges,  schools,  and  so  on,  and  charge 
him  with  bavin'  been  the  means  of  rpbbin'  the  country  of  all 
these  biessin's:  call  'em  blood-suckers,  pampered  minions, 
bloated  leeches.  Then  there's  the  college,  says  you ;  it'^  for 
the  aristocrcu:y,  to  keep  up  distinctions,  to  rivet  our  fetters,  to 
make  the  rich  richer,  and  the  strong  stronger;  talk%of  native 
genius  and  self-taught  artists,  of  natur's  spholars,^f  home- 
spun talent ;  it  flatters  the  multitude  this — it's  poj^kir,  you 
may  depend.  Call  the  troops  mercenaries,  vile  hireling,  de- 
graded slaves ;  turn  up  your  eyes  to  the  ceiling  and  mvoke 
defeat  and  slaughter  on  'em,  if  they  dare  to  enforce  the  law ; 
talk  of  standing  armies,  of  slavery,  of  legionary  tyrants, — 
call  'em  foreigners,  vulturs  thirsting  for  blood, — ^butchers,— 
every  .nan  killed  in  a  row,  or  a  mob,  call  a  victim,  a  tmir- 
dered  »ian, — that's  your  sort,  my  darlin' — go  the  whole  hog, 
and  do  the  thing  genteel.  Any  thing  that  gives  power  to  the 
masses  will  please  the  masses.  If  there  was  nothin'  to  attack 
there  would  be  no  champions ;  if  there  is  no  grievance  you 
must  make  one :  call  all  changes  reform,  whether  it  makes  it 
better  or  not, — any  thing  you  want  to  alter,  call  an  abuse. 
All  that  oppose  you,  call  anti-reformers,  upholders  of  abuses, 


'^i 


inCK  BEAOSHAW. 


37 


nd  councHlors 


bigots,  sycophants,  office-seeking  Tories.  Say  they  live  by 
corruption,  by  oppressm'  the  people,  and  that's  the  reason 
they  oppose  all  chunge.  How  streaked  they'll  look,  won't 
they  7  It  will  make  them  scratch  their  heads  and  stare,  I 
know.  If  there's  any  man  you  don't  like,  use  your  privily 
and  abuse  him  like  Old  Scratch,-— lash  him  like  a  ninger,  cut 
him  up  beautiful— oh,  it's  a  grand  privil^je  that !  Do  this^ 
and  you'll  be  the  speaker  of  the  I|puse,'the  first  pot-hook  on 
the  crane,  the  truckle-head  and  cap-sheave — ^you  will,  I  snore. 
Well,  it  does  open  a  wide  field,  don't  it,  said  Mr.  Buck,  for  an 
ambitious  man  ?  I  vow,  I  believe  I'll  take  your  advic«* ;  I 
like  the  idea  amazin'ly.  Lord,  I  wish  I  could  talk  like  you, 
— you  do  trip  it  off  so  glib— I'll  take  your  advice  tho' — ^I  lyill, 
I  vow.  Well  then,  Mr.  Buck,  if  you  really  will  take  my  ad- 
vice, I'll  give  it  to  you,  said  I,  free-gratis  for  nothin'.  Be 
honest,  be  consistent,  be  temperate ;  be  rather  the  advocate 
of  internal  improvement  than  political  change ;  of  rational 
reform,  but  not  organic  alterations.  Neither  flatter  the  mob, 
nor  flatter  the  government;  support  what  is  right,  oppose 
what  is  wrong ;  what  you  think',  speak ;  try  to  satisfy  your- 
self, and  not  others ;  and  if  you  are  not  popular,  you  will  at 
least  |be  respected;  popularity  lasts  but  a  day,  respect  will 
descend  as  a  heritage  to  your  children. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


BRA 


/ 

DSIJAW. 


^  /We  lei^Gaspereaux  early  in  the  morning,  intending  to 
breakfast  at  Kentville.  The  air  was  cool  and  bracing,  and 
the  sun,  which  had  just  risen,  shed  a  lustre  over  the  scenery 
of  this  beautiful  and  fertile  valley,  which  gave  it  a  fresh  and 
glowing  appearance.  A  splendid  country  this,  squire,  said 
the  Clockmaker ;  that's  a  fact;  the  Lord  never  made  the  beat 
of  it.  I  wouldn't  ax  no  better  -location  in  the  farmin'  line 
than  any  of  these  allotments;  grand  grazin'  grounds  and 
superfine  tillage  lands.  A  man  that  know'd  what  he  was 
about  might  live  like  a  fightin'  cock  here,  and  no  great  scratch- 
in'  for  it  neither.  Do  you  see  that  are  house  on  that  risin' 
hummock  to  the  right  there?  Well,  gist  look  at  it,  that's  what 
I  call  about  right.    Flanked  on  both  sides  by  an  orchard  of 


88 


TUB  OLOCUf  AKER. 


bett-grafted  fruit,  a  tidy  little  olevef  flower-garden  in  front, 
that  the  galli  see  to,  and  a'robbt  a  grand  sarce  garden  over 
the  road  there  sheltered  by  them  are  wiUows.  At  the  back 
side  see  them  everlastin'  big  barns ;  and,  by  gosh  1  there  goes 
the  d^iry  cows;  a  pretty  siffht  too,  that  fourteen  or  *eni 
marchm'  Indgian  file  arter  milkin',  down  to  that  are  medder. 
Whenever  you  see  a  place  all  snugged  up  and  lookin'  like  that 
are,  depend  on  it  the  folks  are  of  the  right  kind:  Them  flowers 
too,  'and  that  are  honeysuckle,  and  rose-bushes  show  the 
family  are  brought  up  right ;  somethin*  to  do  at  home,  instead 
of  racin'  about  to  quiltin*  parties,  huskin'  frolics,  gcssipin', 
talkin'  scandal,  and  neglectin'  their -business.  Them  little 
matters  are  like  throwin'  up  straws,  they  show  which  way  the 
wind  is.  When  galls  attend  to  them  are  things,  it  shows  that 
they  are  what  our  minister  used  to  call  "right-minded."  It 
keeps  thera  busy,  and  when  folks  are  busy,  they  haVt  time  .to 
get  into  mischief;  and  it  amuses  them  too,  and  it  keeps  tha 
dear  little  critters  healthy  and  cheerful.  I  believe  1*11  alight 
and  breakfast  there,  if  youVe  no  objection.  I  should  like  to 
see  that  citiz^'s  improvements,  and  he's  a  plaguy  nice  man 
too,  and  will  be  proud  to  see  you,  you  may  depend. 

We  accordingly  drove  up  to  the  door,  where  we  were  met 
by  Squire  James  Horton,  a  respectable,  intelligent,  cheerful- 
looking  man,  apparently  of  about  fifly  years  of  age.  He 
received  me  with  all  the  ease  and  warmth  of  a  tnan  to  whom 
hospitality^  .was  habitual  tuid  agreeable, — -thanked  Mr.  Slick 
for  bringing  me  to  see  him,  and  observed  that  he  was  a  plain 
farmer,  ana  lived  without  any  pretensions  to  be  oth«r  than  he 
was,  and  that  he  always  felt  pleased  and  gratified  ^M|  any 
stranger  who  would  do  him  the  favour  to  call  ulpon  mm,  and 
would  accommodate  himself  to  the  plain  fare  of  a\>lain  coun- 
tryman. He  said  he  lived  out  of  the  world,  and  the  conversa- 
tion of  strpngers  was  often  instructive,  and  always  accept- 
able to  him.  He  then  conducted  us.  into  the  house,  and 
introduced  us  to  his  wife  and  daughters,  two  very  handsome 
and  extremely  interesting  girls,  who  had  just  returned  from 
superintending  the  operations  of  the  dairy.  I  was  particularly 
struck  with  the  extreme  neatness  and  propriety  of  their  attire, 
plain  and  suitable  to  their  morning  occupations,  but  scrupu- 
lously nice  in  its  appearance. 

As  the  clock  struck  seven,  (a  wooden  clock,  to  which  Mr. 
Slick  looked  with  evident  satisfaction  as  a  proof  of  his  pre- 
vious. &c<^uaintance»)  the  family  were  summoned)  and  Mr. 


■"■^■, 


mOK  BRADSHAW. 


90 


Horton  addressed  a  short  but  very  appropriate  praver  to  the 
Throne  of  Grace,  rendering  the  tribute  of  a  grateful  heart  for 
tlM  numerous  blessings  with  which  he  was  surrounded,  and 
supplicating  a  continuance  of  divine  favour.  There  was  some- 
thing touching  in  the  simplicity  and  fervour  of  his  manner 
and  in  the  unpretending  style  of  his  devotion,  while  there  was 
a  total  absence  of  that  familiar  tone  of  address  so  common  in 
America,  which,  often  bordering  on  profanity,  shocks  and  dis- 
gusts those  who  have  been  accustomed  to  the  more  decorous 
and  respectful  language  of  our  beautiful  liturgy. 

Breakfast  was  soon  announced,  and  we  sat  down  to  an 
excellent  and  substantial  repast,  every  thinp  abundant  and  good 
of  its  kind,  and  the  whole  prepared  with  a  neatness  that 
bespoke  a  welNregulated  and  orderly  family.  We  vf^ge  then 
conducted  round  the  farm,  and  admired  the  method,  regularity, 
and  good,  order  of  the  establishment.  I  guess  this  might 
compare  with  any  of  your  English  farms,  said  the  Clock- 
maker  ;  it  looks  pretty  considerable  slick  this — don't  it  t  We 
have  great  advantages  in  this  country,  said  Mr.  Horton ;  our 
soil  is  naturally  good,  and  we  have  such  an  abundance  o^  salt 
sludge  on  the  banks  of  the  rivers,  that  we  are  enabled  to  put 
our  uplands  in  the  highest  state  of  cultivation.  Industry  and 
economy  can  accomplish  any  thing  here.  We  have  not  only 
good  markets,  but  we  enjoy  an  almost  total  exemption  from 
taxation.  We  have  a  mild  and  paternal  government,  our  laws 
are  well  and  impartially  administered,  and  we  enjoy  as  much 
personal  freedom  as  is  consistent  with  the  peace  and  good 
order  of  society.  God  grant  that  it  may  long  continue  so ! 
and  that  we  may  render  ourselves  worthy  of  these  blessings, 
by  yielding  the  homage  of  grateful  hearts  to  the  Great  Author 
and  Giver  of  all  good  things.  A  bell  ringing  at  the  house  at 
this  time,  reminded  us  that  we  were  probably  interfering  with 
some  of  his  arrangements,  and  we  took  leave  of  our  kind  host, 
and  proceeded  on  our  journey,  strongly  impressed  with  those 
feelings  which  a  scene  of  domestic  happiness  and  rural  felicity 
liku  this  never  falls  to  inspire. 

We  had  not  driven  more  than  two  or  three  miles  before 
Mr.  Slick  suddenly  checked  his  horse,  and  pointing  to  a  farm 
on  the  right-hand  side  of  the  road,  said.  Now  there  is  a  con- 
trast for  you,  with  a  vengeance.  That  critt^,  said  he,  when 
he  built  that  wrack  of  a  house,  (they  call  'em  a  half-house 
here,)  intended  to  add  as  much  more  to  it  some  of  these  days, 
and  accordingly  put  his  chimbley  outside,  to  sarve  the  new 
3* 


80 


THE  OLOCKMAKBR. 


port  as  well  as  the  old.  He  has  .been  too  lazy,  you  see,  to 
remove'  the  bankin'  put  there  the  first  fall,  to  keep  the  frost 
out  o'  the  cellar,  and  it  has  rotted  the  sills  ofi",  and  the  house 
has  fell  away  from  the  chimbley,  and  he  has  had  to  prop  it 
up  with  thkt  great  stick  of  timber,  to  keep  it  from  comin' 
down  on  its  luees  altogether.  All  the  winders  are  boarded 
up  but  one,  and  that  has  all  the  glass  broke  out.  Look  at  the 
barn ! — the  roof  has  fell  in  in  the  middle,  and  the  two  gables 
stand  starin'  each  other  in  the  face,  as  if  they  would  like  to 
come  closer  together  if  they  could,  and  consult  what  was  best 
to  be  done.  Them  old  geese  and  vetren  fowls,  that  are  so 
poor  the  foxes  won't  steal  'em  for  fear  of  hurtin'  their  teeth,— 
that  little  yaller,  lantern-jawed,  long-legged,  rabbit>eared,  riipt 
of  a  pig,  that's  so  weak  it  can't  turn  its  tail  up, — that  old 
frame  of  a  cow,  astandin'  there  with  its  eyes  shot-tq,  acontem- 
platin'  of  its  latter  eend, — and  that  varmint-lookin'  horse,  with 
his  hocks  swell'd  bigger  than  his  belly,  that  looks  as  if  he  had 
come  to  her  funeral, — ^is  all  his  s^ock,  I  guess.  The  goney 
has  showed  his  sense  in  one  thing,  however,  he  has  burnt  all 
his  fence  up ;  for  there  is  no  danger  of  other  folks'  cattle 
breakin'  into  his  field  to  starve,  and  gives  his  Old  Mooley  a 
chance  o'  sneakin'  into  his  neighbours'  fields  o'  nights  if  she 
find  an  open  gate,  or  a  pair  of  bars  down,  to  get  a  treat  (^ 
clover  now  and  then.  O  dear,  if  you  was  to  get  up  airly 
of  a  mornin',  afore  the  dew  was  dfthe  ground,  and  mow  that 
are  field  with  a  razor,  and  rake  it  with  a  fine-tooth  comb,  you 
wouldn't  get  stuff  enough  to  keep  one  grasshopper  through 
the  winter,  if  you  was  to  be  hang'd  for  it.  'Spose  we  drive 
up  to  the  door  to  light  a  cigar ;  if  Nick  Bradshaw  is  to  home, 
I  should  like  to  have  a  little  chat  with  him.  It's  worth  know- 
ing how  he  can  farm  with  so  little  labour ;  for  any  thing  that 
saves  labour  in  this  country,  where  help  is  so  plaguy  dear,  is 
worth  liirnin',  you  may  depend. 

Observing  us  pause  and  point  towards  his  domain,  Nicho- 
las lided  off  the  door  and  laid  it  on  its  side,  and,  emerging 
from  his  den  of  dirt  and  smoke,  stood  awhile  reconnoitering 
us.  He  was  a  tall,  well-built,  athletic-looking  man,  possessed 
of  great  personal  strength  and  surprising  activity,  but  looked 
like  a  good-natured,  careless  fellow,  who  loved  talking  and 
smoking  better  than  work,  and  %referred  the  pleasures  of  the 
tap-room  to  the  labours  of  the  field.  He  thinks  we  want  his 
vote,  said  the  Clockmaker.  He's  looking  as  big  as  all  outdoors 
gist  now,  and  waitin'  for  us  to  come  to  him.    He  wouldn't 


mOK   BRADSHAW. 


81 


condescend  to  coll  the  kiaa  his  cousin  gist  at  this  present  timei 
It*s  independent  da^  with  him,  I  calculate ;  happy-lookm'  ent- 
er, too,  ain*t  he,  with  that  are  little,  short,  black  pipe  in  hit 
mouth  ?  The  fact  is,  squire,  the  moment  a  man  takes  to  a  pipe 
he  becomes  a  philosifer ; — ^it*s  the  poor  man's  friend ;  it  cahoa 
the  mind,  soothes  the  temper,  and  makes  a  man  patient  under 
trouble.  It  has  made  more  good  men,  good  husbands,  kind 
masters,  indulgent  fathers,  and  honest  fellers,  than  any  other 
blessed  thing  in  this  univarsal  world.  The  Jndgians  always 
buried  a  pipe  and  a  skin  of  tobacco  with  their  folks,  in  case 
smokin*  should  be  the  fashion  in  the  next  world,  that  they 
mightn't  go  unprovided.  Gist  look  at  him :  his  hat  has  got 
n#crown  in  it,  and  the  rim  hangs  loose  by  the  side,  like  the 
bale  of  a  bucket.  His  trousers  and  jacket  are  all  flying  in 
tatters  of  difl^rent  colourM  patches.  He  has  one  old  choe  on 
one  foot,  and  an  ontanned  mocasin  on  t'other.  He  ain't  had 
his  beard  cut  since  last  sheep-sheerin',  and  he  looks  as  shaggy 
as  a  yearlin'  colt.  And  yet  you  see  the  critter  has  a  rakish 
look  too.  That  are  old  hat  is  cocked  oa  one  side  quite  know- 
in',  he  has  both  hands  in  his  trousers  pockets,  as  if  he  had 
sometbin'  worth  feelin'  there,  while  one  eye,  shot-to  on  ac- 
count of  the  smoke,  and  the  other  standin'  out  of  the  way  of 
it  as  far  as  it  can,  makes  him  look  like  a  bit  of  a  wag.  A 
man  that  didn't  smoke,  couldn't  do  that  now,  squire.  You 
may  talk  about  fortitude,  and  patience,  and  Christian  resigna- 
tion, and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  till  you're  tired ;  I've  seen  it 
and  heerd  tell  of  it  too,  but  I  never  knew  an  instance  yet, 
where  it  didn't  come  a  little  grain-heavy  or  Sour  out  of  the 
oven.  Philosophy  is  like  most  other  guests  I've  seed,  it  likes 
to  visit  them  as  keeps  good  tables,  and  though  it  has  some 
poor  acquaintances,  it  ain't  more  nor  half  pleased  to  be  seen 

walkin'  lock  and  lock  with  'em.     But  smokin* Here  he 

comes,  tho',  I  swan ;  he  kno^s  Old  Clay,  I  reckon :  he  sees 
it  ain't  the  candidate  chap. 

This  discovery  dispelled  the  important  airs  of  Nicholas, 
and  taking  the  pipe  out  of  his  mouth,  he  retreated  a  pace  or 
two,  and  took  a  running  leap  of  ten  or  twelve  feet  across  a 
stagnant  pool  of  green  water  that  graced  his  lawn,  and  served 
the  double  purpose  of  rearing  goslings  and  breeding  mus- 
quitoes,  and  by  repeating  these  feats  of  agility  on  the  grass 
several  times,  (as  if  to  keep  himself  in  practice,)  was  by  the 
side  of  the  wagon  iii  a  few  minutes. 

'Mornin',  Mr.  Bradshaw,  said  the  Clockmaker ;  how's  all 


83 


THE  CLOCKMAXER. 


to  home  to-day?  Reasonable  well,  I  giVe  you  thanks:— 
i(iron*t  you  alight  7  Thank  you,  I  gist  stopt  to  light  a  cigar. — 
ril  bring  you  a  bit  o*  fire,  said  Nick,  in  the  twinklin'  of  an 
eye;  and  bounding  oflf  to  the  house  with  similar  gigantic 
strides,  hel  was  out  of  sight  in  a  moment.  Happy,  good- 
natured  citizen,  that  you  see,  squire,  said  Mr.  Slick,  he  hainU 
been  fool  enough  to  stiffen  himself  by  hard  work  neither ;  for 
you  see  he  is  as  supple  as  an  eel.  The  critter  can  jump  like 
a  catamount,  and  run  like  a  deer ;  he'd  catch  a  fox  a'most, 
that  chap. 

Presently  out  bounded  Nick  in  the  same  antelope  style, 
waving  over  his  head  a  lighted  brtind  of  three  or  four  feet 
long.  Here  it  is,  said  he,  but^you  must  be  quick,  for  this  0Dfl 
green  wood  wonU  hold  fire  in  no  time— -it  goes  right  out.  It*s 
Hke  my  old  house  there,  and  that's  so  rotten  it  won't  hold  a 
nail  now ;  after  yju  drive  one  in  you  can  pull  it  out  with  your 
finger.  How  are  you  off  for  tobacco  ?  said  Mr.  Slick.  Grand, 
«aid  he,  got  half  a  fig  lefl  yet.  Get  it  for  you  in  a  minit,  and 
the  old  lady's  pipe  too,  and  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  was 
curvetting  again  off  to  the  house.  .That  goney,  said  the 
Clpckmaker,  is  like  a  gun  that  goes  off  at  half  cock — ^there's 
no  doin'  nothin'  with  him.  I  didn't  want  his  backey,  I  only 
wanted  an  excuse  to  give  him  some ;  but  it's  a  strange  thing 
that,  squire,  but  it's  as  sure  as  rates,  the  poor  are  every  where 
more  liberal^  more  obligin\  and  hore  hospitable^  according 
to  their  meansj  than  the  rich  are':  they  beat  thgm  all  hollar, — 
it's  a  facty  I  assure  you. 

When  he  returned,  Mr.  Slick  toid  him  that  he  was  so  spry, 
that  he  was  out  of  hearing  before  he  could  stop  him ;  that  he 
didr/t  require  any  himself,  but  was  going  to  offer  him  a  fig  of 
first  chop  genuine  stuff  he  had.  Thank  you,  said  he,  as  he 
took  it,  and  put  it  to  his  nose ; — it  hasthe  right  flavour  that — 
rather  weak  for  me,  tho'.  I'm  thinking  it  '11  gist  suit  the  old 
lady.  She  smokes  a  good  deal  now  for  the  cramp  in  her  leg. 
She's  troubled  with  the  cramp  sometimes,  away  dov  n  some 
where  about  the  calf,  and  smokin',  they  say,  is  good  lOr  it.  ^ 

He  then  too»c  the  tobacco  very  scientifically  between  th6 
forefinger  and  thumb  of  his  lefl  hand,  and  cut  it  into  small 
shreds  that  fell  into  the  palm.  Then  holding  both  knife  and 
fig  between  his  teeth,  he  rolled,  untwisted,  and  pulverised  the 
cut  tobacco  by  rubbing  and  grinding  it  between  his  two  hands, 
and  refilled  and  lighted  his  pipe,  and  pronouncing  the  tobacco 
ti  prime  article,  looked  the  very  picture  of  happiness.     How's 


HICK  BRAMBAW.  88 

crops  in  a  generaf  way  this  year  ?  said  Mr.  Slick.  Well,  they 
are  just  about  middlin',  said  he  f  the  seasons  ha*n't  been  rery 
good  lately,  and  somehow  the  land  don*t  bear  as  it  used  to 
when  I  was  a  boy ;  but  I'm  in  great  hopes  times  are  goin*  to 
be  better  now.  They  say  things  look  brishter ;  //ctl  a  good 
deal  encouragtd  mytelf.  They  tell  me  the  governor's  agmn' 
to  appoint  a  new  council ;  I  guess,  they'll  do  sun'thin*  for  tlw 
country.  Ah,  said  the  Clockmaker,  that  indeed,  that  would 
be  sun'thin'  like, — it  would  make  times  quite  brisk  agin— 
farmers  could  afford  to  live  then.  It  would  raise  nuurkets 
considerable.  So  I  see  in  the  papers,  said  Nick :  the  fket  o' 
the  matter  is  the  ansemblymen  must  do  sun'thin'  for  the  coun- 
try, or  it  will  ^  to  the  dogs,  that's  sartain.  They  tell  me  too 
that  the  council  doors  are  to  be'  opened,  so  that  we  can  hear 
the  debates; — that  will  be  a  great  privilege,  won't  it?  Very, 
said  the  Clockmaker ;  it  will  help  the  farmers  amazin'ly  that ; 
I  should  count  that  a  great  matter :  they  must  be  worth  hearin', 
them  counsellors.  It's  quite  a  trefl  to  hear  the  members  in  ' 
the  house,  particularly  when  they  talk  about  bankin',  curren- 
cy, constitution,  bounties,  and  such  tough  knotty  things  ;— 
they  go  so  deep  into  these  matters,  and  know  so  much  about 
'em,  it's  quite  edifyin'.  I've  lamt  mqre  new  things,  and  more 
things  I  niver  knew  afore,  in  half  an  hour  in  the  assembly, 
than  ever  I  heerd  afore  in  my  life,  and  I  expect  t'other  house 
will  be  quite  as  wise.  Well,  I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  40, 
said  Nicholas ;  I  feel  aomehow  quite  eneoumged  my»elf:  if 
we  had  a  bounty  of  about  a  shilling  a  bushel  for  raisin'  pota- 
toes, two>and-six-pence  a  bushel  for  wheat,  and  fifteen  pence 
for  oats,  I  think  a  body  might  have  a  chance  to  make  out  to 
scratch  along  to  live  here;  and  I'm  told  when  the  council 
doors  are  opened,  we  shall  actually  get  them.  I  must  say,  / 
feel  quite  encouraged  myself.  But  stop,  said  he,-  laying  his 
hand  on  Mr.  Slick,  do  you  see  that  are  varmint  alookin'  arter 
the  old  lady's  chickins  over  there  by  the  barn  ?  I  had  a  crack 
at  him  yesterday,  but  he  was  too  far  off — wait  abit ;  and  he 
scampered  off  to  the  house,  brought  out  his  gun,  which  had 
been  previously  loaded,  and  throwing  himself  on  all  fours, 
proceeded  towards  the  barn  as  rapidly  as  a  quadruped.  Stop, 
stop,  daddy,  said  a  little  halk>naked  imp  of  a  boy,  stop  till  I 
get  my  cock-shy.  Well,  bear  a  hand  then,  said  he,  or  he'll 
be  off:  I  wont  wait  a  minit. 

The  boy  darted  into  the  house,  and  returned  in  an  instant 
with  a  short  round  hard  wood  club  in  his  hand,  and  throwing 


\ 


a4 


THX  OLOCKMAKMU 


himtelf  in  the  same  posture,  thrust  his  head  under  the  skirts 
of  his  &ther*s  coat,  and  crawled  afbr  him,  between  his  Ims, 
the  two  appearing  like  one  lon^  monstrous  reptile.  The 
hawk,  observing  /his  unusual  motion,  rose  higher  mto  the  air, 
as  he  slowly  Miledjround  the  building;  but  Nicholas,  not 
liking  to  be  balked  of  his  shot,  fired  at  a  venture,  and  fortu- 
natelv  broke  his  wing.  Slop,  daddy,  said  the  boy,  recovering 
his  feet,  stop,  daddy,  it's  my  turn  now;  and  following  the 
bird,  that  flew  with  inconceivable  rapidity,  like  an  ostrich, 
half  running,  half  flying,  threw  his  code-shy  at  him  with  un- 
erring  aim,  and  killed  him.  Ain't  he  a  whopper,  daddy  ?  said 
he.  See !  and  he  stretched  out  his  wings  to  their  full  extent 
-—he's  a  sneezer,  ain't  he  1  I'll  show  him  to  mammy,  I  guess, 
and  ofl*  he  ran  to  the  house  to  exhibit  his  prize. — Make  a 
smart  man  that,  said  Nick,  regarding  his  boy,  as  he  carried 
ofl*  the  bird,  with  looks  of  entire  satisfaction :  make  a  considr 
erable  of  a  smart  man  that,  if  'the  assembly  men  would  onlv 
'give  us  a  chance ;  but  I  jj^el  quite  encouraged  now,  I  think 
we  shall  have  a  good  brood  of  chickens  this  year,  now  that 
thievin'  rascal  ^  has  got  his  flint  fixt;  and  if  them  three  regi- 
ments come  to  Halifax  that's  talked  of  this  winter,  poultry 
will  fetch  a'most  a  grand  price,  that's  sartain.  It  appears  to 
me  there's  a  hawk,  or  a  ^ 'ild  cat,  or  a  fox,  or  a  lawyer,  or  a 
constable,  or  a  somethin'  or  another  for  everlastin'ly  a  both- 
erin'  of  a  poor  man ;  but  I  feel  quite  encouraged  now. 

I  never  seed  that  critter  yet,  said  the  Clockmaker,  that  he 
didn't  say  he  felt  "  quite  encouraged ;"  he's  always.lookin'  for 
the  Assembly  to  do  great  things  for  him,  and  every  year  feels 
"quite  encouraged"  that  they  will  do  sun'thin'  at  the  next 
session  that  will  make  his  fortin.  I  wonder  if  folks  will  ever 
larn  that  politics  are  the  seed  mentioned  in  Scriptur'  that  fell 
by  the  road-side,  and  the  fowls  came  and  pick'd  them  up. 
They  don't  benefit  the  farmer,  but  they  feed  them  hungry 
birds, — the  party  leaders. 

The  bane  of  this  country,  squire,  and  indeed  of  all  America, 
is  havin'  too  much  land ;  they  run  over  more  ground  than  they 
can  cultivate,  and  crop  the  land  so  severely  that  they  run  it 
out.  A  very  large  portion  of  land  in  America  has  been  run 
out  by  repeated  grain  crops,  and  when  you  add  that  to  land 
naterally  too  poor  to  bear  grain,  or  too  broken  for  cultivation, 
you  will  find  this  great  country  in  a  fair  way  to  be  ruined. 

The  State  of  Varmont  has  nothin'  like  the  exports  it  used 
to  have,  and  a  plaguy  sight  of  the  young  folks  come  down  to 


MIOK  BRADSHAW.  M 

Boston  to  hire  out  as  helps.  The  two  Carolinas  and  Varginia 
are  covered  with  places  that  have  been  given  up  as  ruined, 
and  many  other  States.  We  havVt  the  surplus,  of  wheat  and 
ffrain  we  used  to  have  in  the  l/^nited  States,  and  it  never  will 
be  so  plenty  agin.  That's  the  reason  you  hear  of  folks  clear- 
in'  land,  makin'  a  farm,  and  sellin'  off  agin  and  goin'  farther 
into  the  bush.  They've  exhausted  it,  and  find  it  easier  to 
clear  new  lands  than  to  restore  the  old. 

A  great  deal  of  Nova  Scotia  is  run  out,  and  if  it  war'n't 
for -the  lime,  marsh.mud, -sea- weed,  salt.sand,  and  what  not, 
they've  got  here  in  such  quantities,  there'd  be  no  cure  for  it. 
It  takes  good  farmin*  to  keep  an  upland  location  in  order, 
I  tell  you,  and  make  it  sustain  itself.  It  takes  more  to  fetch 
a  farm  to  that's  had  the  gizzard  taken  out  of  it,  thali  it*a 
worth.  It  actilly  frightens  me,  when  I  think  your  agriculture 
in  Britain  is  progressin',  and  the  land  better  tilled  every  day, 
while  thousands  upon  thousands  of  acres  with  us,  are  turiMd 
into  barrens.  No  traveller  as  I've  seed  has  noticed  this,  and 
our  folks  are  not  aware  of  it  themselves  to  the  extent  of  the 
evil.  Squire,  you  and  I  won't  live  to  see  it,  but  if  this  awilil 
robbin'  of  posterity  goes  on  for  another  century  as  it  has  pro- 
gressed for  the  last  hundred  years,  we'll  be  a  nation  of  paupers. 
Very  little  land  in  America,  eveii  of  the  best,  will  carry  more 
than  one  crop  of  wheat  arter  it's  clear'd  afore  it  wants  manure; 
and  where  it's  clear'd  so  ftist,  where's  the  manure  to  come 
from? — it  puzzles  me  (and  I  won't  turn  my  back  on  any  man 
in  the  farmin'  line) — the  Lord  knows,  for  I  don't ;  but  if  there's 
a  thiLg  that  scares  me,  it's  this. 

Hullo !  hullo ! — said  a  voice  behind  us,  and  when  we  turned 
to  look  from  whence  it  came,  we  saw  Nicholas  running  and 
leaping  over  the  fences  of  his  neighbours  like  a  greyhound. 
Stop  a  minit,  said  he,  I  want  to  speak  to  you.  I  feel  quite 
encouraged  since  I  seen  you ;  there's  one  question  I  foi^t  to 
ask  you,  Mr.  Slick,  for  I  should  like  amazin'ly  to  have  your 
opinion.  Who  do  you  go  for?  I  go  for  the  Squire,  said  he: 
I'm  agoin'  for  to  go  round  the  sea-coast  with  him.  I  don't 
mean  that  at  all,  said  he ; — who  do  you  go  for  in  the  election  ? 
There's  to  be  a  poll  a  Monday  to  Kentville;  and  Aylesford 
and  Gasperaux  are  up ;  who  do  you  go  for  ?  I  don't  go  for 
either  of  'em ;  I  wouldn't  give  a  chaw  of  tobakey  for  both  on 
em :  what  is  it  to  me  who  goes  ?  Well,  I  don't  suppose  it  is, 
but  it's  a  great  matter  to  us :  who- would  you  advise  me  to  vote 
fort   Who  is  agoin'  for  to  do  the  most  good  for  you?   Ayles- 


m  THB  OLOOKMAKBR.  > 

Ibrd.  Wh6  promiiM  you  the  raoat?  Avieiibrd.  Vote  for 
t*o(her  one  then,  for  I  never  leed  orlieerd  tell  of  a  feller  yet, 
that  was  very  ready  with  hia  promises,  that  wam*t  quite  as 
ready  to  break  them,  when  it  suited  his  purpoee,*  an4  if 
Aylesfbrd  eomes  abotherin*  you,  call  our  little  Nick  with  hia 
<*  cock-shy,"  and  let  him  take  a  shot  at  him.  Any  critter 
that  finds  out  that  all  the  world  are  rogues,  and  tells  of  the 
great  things  that  he's  agoin'  for  to  do,  ginerally  overlooks  the 
biggest  rogue  of  all,  and  that's  himself.  Oh  I  Gaspereaux  for 
ever  I  he's  the  man  for  your  money,  and  no  mistake.  Well, 
said  Nicholas,  I  believe  you're  half  right.  Aylesford  did 
promise  a  shillin'  a  bushel  bounty  on  potatoes  tho',  but  I  be-  • 
lieve  he  lied  arter  all.  I'll  take  your  advice,-r-//««'  ftiite 
encouraged  now.  If  you'd  like  a  coal  to  light  your  cigar  by, 
said  he,  I'll  step  in  here  and  get  you  one.  Thank  you,  said 
Mr.  Slick;  I  have  no  occasion  for  one  gist  now.  Well,  I 
believe  I'll  drop  in  and  light  a  pipe  there  myself  then,  any- 
Low.    Good-b'ye— //««/  quite  encouraged  now. 

Oh  dear  I  said  the  dockmaker,  what  a  good-natered,  good- 
for-nothin'  simple  toad  that  is.  I  suppose  when  the  sheriflT 
takes  the  vote  of  such  critters,  he  flatters  himself  he  takes 
the  sense  of  the  county.  What  a  difierence  atween  him  and 
HortonI  The  one  is  a  lazy,  idle  critter,  wanderin*  about 
talkin'  politics,  or  snarin*  rabbits,  catchin'  eels,  or  shogtin* 
hawks,  and  neglectin'  his  work,  and  a  pretty  kettle  of  fish 
he's  made  of  it.  The  other,  a  careful,  steady-goin',  indus- 
trious man,  that  leaves  politics  to  them  as  likes  daU)lin'  -  > 
troubled  waters,  and  attends  steadily  to  his  business,  aud  hfr^B 
a  credit  to  his  country. 

Yes,  too  much  land  is  the  ruin  of  us  all  this  side  o'  the 
water.  Afore  I  went  to  England  I  used  to  think  that  the  on- 
equal  divisions  of  property  there,  and  the  system  of  landlord 
and  tenant,  was  a  curse  to  the  country,  wad  that  there  was 
more  dignity  and  freedom  to  the  individual,  and  more  benefit 
to  the  nation,  for  every  man  to  own  the  land  he  cultivated,  as 
with  us.  But  I've  changed  my  mind ;  I  see  it's  the  cause  of 
the  high  state  of  cultivation  in  England,  and  the  prosperity 
of  its  agriculture.  If  the  great  men  had  the  land  in  their 
own  hands  there,  every  now  and  then  an  improvident  one 
.  would  skin  the  soil,,  and  run  it  out ;  bein'  let  to  othera  he 
can't  do  it  himself,  and  he  takes  plasuy  good  care  by  his  lease 
his  tenant  shan't  do  it  neither.     Well  then,  there  he  is,  with 


jnOB  BEADSHAW.  If 

his  capital  to  make  great  improvementa,  substantial  repairs, 
and  so  on,  and  things  are  pushed  up  to  perfection. 

In  Nova  Scotia  there  are  hundreds  and  thousands  that 
would  be  better  off  as  tenants,  if  they  would  but  only  think 
tM>.  When  a  chap  spends  all  his  money  in  buying  lands,  and 
mortgajDies  them  to  pay  the  rcftC  of  the  priee,  he  ain*t  able  to 
stock  his  farm,  and  work  it  properly ;  and  he  labours  like  a 
nigger  all  his  life,  and  dies  poor  at  lost,  while  the  land  gets 
run  out  in  hie  hands,  and  is  no  good  for  ever  after.  Now  if 
he  was  to  hire  the  farm,  the  money  tlmt  he  paid  tor  the  pur- 
chase would  stock  it  complete,  enable  him  to  hire  labour,— to 
wait  for  markets,— to  buy  up  cattle  cheap,*  and  to  sell  them  to 
advantage.  .He*d  make  money  hand  over  hand,  while  be*d 
throw  the  cost  of  all  repairs  and  improvements  on  the  owner. 
But  you  might  talk  till  yqu  were  grey-headed,  and  you 
wouldnH  persuade  folks  of  that  in  this  country.  The  glo- 
rious privilege  of  having  a  vote,  to  give  to  some  goney  of  a 
member,  carries  the  day.  Well  may  they  call  it  a  dear  privi- 
lege that,  for  it  keeps  them  poor  to  their  dyin*  day.  Not 
squire,  your  system  of  landlord  and  tenant  is  the  best  for  the 
farmer,  and  the  best  for  the  nation.  There  never  can  be  a 
high  state  of  general  cultivation  without  it.  Agriculture  wonts 
the  labour  of  the  farmer  and  the  nioney  of  the  capitalist,— 
both  must  go  hand  in  hand.  When  it  is  left  to  the  farmer 
alone,  it  must  dwindle  for  want  of  means — and  the  country 
must  dwindle  too.  A  nation,  even-  if  it  is  as  bis  as  our  great 
one,  if  it  has  no  general  system  of  landlord  and  tenant 
adopted  in  it,  must  run  out.  We  are  undergoin*  that  process 
now.  I'm  most  plaguy  afeerd  we  shall  run  out ;  that's  a  fact. 
A  country  is  but  a  large  estate  at  best ;— and  if  it  is  badly 
tilled  and  hard  cropped,  it  must,  in  the  eend,  present  the  me- 
lancholy spectacle  of  a  great  exhausted  farm.  That's  quite 
encouragiiC  now,  as  Nick  Bradshaw  says, — ain*t  it  ? 


\ 


88 

i   ,  ■         I 


THE   CLOCKMAKSR. 


.■f'^y 


i-A«l 


t'U'Vf* 


«-»f*-t(.;     S,'    ^*_y,,•/^>1)^;^^ 


!-h. 


4  ■ 


'r^'V^i'' 


CHAPTER  V.  . 

TRAVELLING  IN  AMERICA-       ^''^^^ 


* '  *■•■ 


Did  you  ever  drink  any  Thames  water,  squire  ?  said  the 
Clockmaker;  because  it  is  one  of  the  greatest  nateral  curio  J- 
ties  in  the  world.  When  I  returned  from  Poland,  in  the  hair 
spekelation,  I  sailed  from  London,  and  ^e  had  Thames  water 
on  board.  Says  I  to  the  captain,  says  I,  I  guess  you  want  to 
pyson  us,  don't  you,  with  that  are  nasty,  dirty,  horrid  stuff? 
how  can  you  think  o*  takin'  such  water  as  that  1  Why,  says 
he,  Mr.  Slick,  it  does  make  the  best  water  in  the  warki — 
that's  a  fact ;  yes,  and  the  best  poiter  too ;  it  ferments,  works 
off  the  scum,  clarifies  itself,  and  beats  all  natur' ; — and  yet 
look  at  all  them  are  sewers,  and  drains,  and  dye  stuffs,  and 
factory- wash,  and  onmentionables  that  are  poured  into  it;--«it 
beats  the  bu^)  don't  it  1  Well  squire,  our  great  country  is 
like  that  are  Thames  water, — it  does  receive  the  outpourin's 
of  the  world,— homocides  and  regicides, — ^jail-birds  and 
galley-birds, — poor-house  chaps  and  workhouse  chaps, — re- 
bels, infidels,  and  forgers, — rogues  of  all  sorts,  sizes,  and 
degrees, — but  it  farments,  you  see,  and  works  clear;  and 
what  a 'most  a  beautiful  clear  stream  o'  democracy  it  does 
make, — don't  it  ?  Not  hot  enough  for  fog,  nor  cold  enough 
for  ice,  nor  limey  enough  to  fur  up  the  bylers,  nor  too  hard  to 
wash  clean,  nor  raw  enough  to  chop  the  skin, — but  gist  the 
thing ;  that's  a  fact.  I  wish  to  gracious  you'd  come  and  see 
for  yourself.  I'd  go  with  you  and  cost  you  nothin'.  I'd  take 
&  prospectus  of  a  new  work  and  get  subscribers  ;  take  a  pat- 
tern book  of  the  Lowell  factories  for  orders ;  and  spekilate  a 
little  by  the  way,  so  as  to  clear  my  shot  wherever  we  went. 

You  must  see  for  yourself, — you  can't  lam  nothin'  from 
books.  I  have  read  nil  the  travels  in  America,  and  there 
ain't  one  that's  worth  a  cent.  They  don't  understand  us. 
They  remind  me  of  a  lawyer  examinin'  of  a  witness ;  he  don't 
want  either  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  or  nothin'  but  the  truth, 
but  he  wants  to  pick  out  of  him  gist  so  much  as  will  prove 
his  case,  d'ye  see,  and  would  like  him  to  keep  dark  about  the 
rest ;  puts  artful  questions  to  him  on  purpose  to  get  an  answer 
to  suit  him  ;  stops  him  when  he  talkt»  too  fast,  leads  him  when 


LJ^^i. 


TRAVELLING   IK    AMERICA. 


39 


he  goes  too  slow,  praises  his  own  witnesses  sky  high,  and 
abuses  the  other  side  for  lyin*,  equivocating  parjured  Villairj. 
That^s  gist  the  case  with  English  travellers ;  instead  of  lookin' 
all  round  and  seein'  into  things  first,  and  then  comin*  to  an 
opinion,  they  make  up  their  minds  afore  they  come,  and  then 
look  for  facts  to  support  their  views.  First  coirtes  a  great 
high  tory,  and  a  republic  smells  so  bad  in  his  nostrils,  he*s 
got  his  nose  curlM  up  like  a  pug-nose  dog  all  thro*  his  jour* 
ney.  He  sees  no  established  church,  and  he  swears  t*"  are's 
no  religion ;  and  he  sees  no  livery  helps,  and  he  says  it's  all 
vulgar ;  and  if  he  sees  a  citizen  spit,  he  jumps  a  one  side  as 
scared  as  if  it  wor  a  rifle  agoin'  off.  Then  comes  a  radical, 
(and  them  English  radicals  are  cantankerous^lookin'^  critters 
— that's  a  fact, — as  sour  as  vinegar,  and  lookin'  as  cross  and 
as  hungry  as  a  bear  gist  starved  out  in  the  spring,)  and  theif 
say  we  have  the  slavery  of  opinion  here ;  that  our  preachers 
want  moral  courage,  and  that  our  great  cities  are  cursed  with 
the  aristocracy  of  wealth.  There  is  no  pleasin'  either  on  'em. 
Then  come  what  minister  used  to  call^e  Optimists,  a  set  of 
folks,  who  talk  yop  deef  about  the  perfectibility  of  human 
natur' ;  that  men,  iike  caterpillars,  will  all  turn  into  beautiful 
critters  with  wings  like  butterflies, — a  sorf  of  grub  angels ; — 
that  our  great  nation  is  a  paradise,  and  our  folks  a^ettin'  out 
o'  the  chrysolis  state  into  somethin'  divine. 

I  seldom  or  never  talk  to  none  o'  them,  unless  it  be  to  bam 
'em.  They  think  they  know  every  thing,  and  all  they  got  to 
do  is,  to  up  Hudson  like  a  shot,  into  the  lakes  full  split,  off  to 
Mississippi  and  down  to  New  Orieani?  full  chisel,  back  to  New 
York  and  up  Killock,  and  home  in  a  liner^  and  write  a  book. 
They  have  a  whole  stock  of  notes.  Spittin' — gougin', — 
lynchin', — burnin'  alive, — steamboats  blowed  up, — snags,— *^! 
slavery, — stealin' — Texas, — state  prisons, — men  talk  slow, — 
women  talk  loud, — both  walk  far* — chat  in  steam-boats  and 
stage-coaches, — anecdotes,  and  so  on.  Then  out  comes  a 
book.  If  its  a  tory  writes  it,  then  the  tory  papers  say  it's  the 
best  pictur'  they  have  seen ; — lively,  interestin',  intelligent. 
If  a  radical,  then  radical  papers  say  it  is  a  very  philosophical 
vork,  (whenever  a  feller  gets  over  his  head  in  it,  and  cruel 
unintelligible,  he's  deep  in  philosophy,  that  chap,)  statesman- 
like view,  able  work,  throws  great  light  on  the  polit  cs  of  the 
day,  I  wouldn't  give  a  chaw  of  tobackey  for  the  books  of  all 
of  'em  tied  up  and  put  into  a  .neai-bag  together. 

Our  folks  sarve  'em  as  the  Indgians  used  to  sarve  the  gulls 


\*, 


.;:,:;,-i- J- <*»... 


\. 


THE   CLOCKMAKBR.  n 


V 


i 


3  > 


down  toSquantum  in  old  pilgrim  times.  The  cunnio'  critters 
use^  to  make  a  sort  o*  fish  flakes,  and  catch  herrin'  and  torn 
cods,  and  such  sort  o'  fish,  and  put  'em  on  the  flakes,  and  then 
crawl  onder  themselves,  and  as  soon  as  the  gulls  lighted  ^ 
oat  the  fish,  (satch  hold  o'  their  legs  and  pull  *em  thro .  Artcr 
:  ;  that,  wlienever  a  feller  was  made  a  fool  on  and  took  in,  they 
used  to  say  he  was  gulled.  Well,  if  our  folks  don't  gull  them 
V  British  travellers,  it's  a  pity.  They  do  make  proper  fools  on 
'em  ;  that's  a  fact. 

Year  afore  last,  I  met  an  English  gall  a  travellin'  in  a 
steam-boat ;  she  had  a  French  name  that  I  can't  recollect,  the* 
I  got  it  on  the  tip  o'  my  tongue  too  :  you  Ir'jow  who  I  mean — 
she  wrote  books  on  economy, — not  domestic  economy,  as 
galls  ought,  but  on  political  economy,  as'  galls  oughtent,  for 
;  4hey  don't  know  nothin'  about  it.  She  had  a  trumpet  in  her 
hand, — thinks  I,  who  on  airth  is  she  agoin  to  hail,  or  is  she 
Rgoin'  to  try  echoes  on  the  river  1  I  watBhed  her  for  some 
time,  and  I  found  it  was  an  ear  trumpet. 

Well,  well,  says  I,  tHat's  onlike  most  English  travellers  any 

vV  way,  for  in  a  giniral  way  they  wear  magnifying  glasses,  and 

■  '  do  enlarge  things  so,  a  body  don't  know  'em  ag'in  when  he 

sees  'em.    Now,  this  gall  won't  hear  one  half  that's  said,  and 

"  will  get  that  half  wrong,  and  so  it  turned  out.     Says  she  to 

me,  Beautiful  country  this  Mr.  Slick ;  says  she,  I'm  transported. 

Transported,  said  I,  why,  what  onder  the  sun  did  you  do  to 

home  to  ^et  transported  1 — but  she  larfed  right  out  like  any 

'    thing;  delighted,  I  mean,  said  she,  it's  so  beautiful.     li  is 

splendid,  said  I,  no  doubt;  there  ain't  the  beat  of  it  to  be  found 

any  where.     Oh  !  said  she,  what  views,  what  scenery,  what 

woods,  what  a  river !  how  I  should  like  to  soar  away  up  with 

that  a.-e  eagle  into  the  blue  a^y,  and  see  all  its  beauties  spread 

out  afore  me  like  a  map  !     How  grand — every  thing  is  on  a 

■^  grand  scale  I     Have  you  seen  the  Kentuckians?  said  I.     Not 

■  yet,  said  she.    Stop  then,  said  I,  till  you  see  t^em.    They  arc 

>oD  a  scale  that  will  please  you,  \  guess ;  whopping  big  fellows 

'  them,  I  tell  you ;  half  horse,  half  alligator,  with  a  touch  of 

the  airth'quake.     I  wasn't  a  talking  of  the  men,  said  she,  'tis 

■'-  the  beauties  of  natur'  I  was  admiring.     Well,  said  I,  once  on 

a  time  I  used  to  admire  the  beauties  of  na*ur'  too,  but  I  got 

cured  of  that.     Sit  down  on  this  bench,  said  she,  and  tell  me 

"^  how  it  was ; — these  kind  o'  anecdotes  serve  to  illustrate  the 


"  moral  of  feelin'." 
of  feelin'!"    Well 


Thinks  I,  this  is  philosophy  now,  "  moral 
if  the  musquitoes  don't  illustrate  you^ 


TRAVELLINO   IN   AMERICA. 


41 


moral  of  feeling  for  you,  itome  of  these  nights,  Pm  mistaken. 
Very  immoral  fellows,  those  'skeeters. 

Well,  said  I,  my  first  tower  in  the  Clock-trav>e  was  up 
Canada  way,  and  I  was  the  first  ever  went  up  Huron  witli 
clocks.  When  I  reached  our  fort,  at  Gratiot,  who  did  I  ^d 
there  as  commander  of  the  party,  but  the  son  of  an  old 
American  hero,  a  sargent  at  Bunker's  Hill.  Well,  bein'  the 
son  of  an  old  veteran  hero  myself,  it  made  quite  a  fellowship 
atween  us,  like.  He  bought  a  clock  o'  me,  and  invited  me  to 
stay  with  him  till  a  vessel  arrived  for  Michigan.  Well,  in  the 
arternoon,  we  went  for  to  take  tea  with  a  gentleman  that  had 
settled  near  the  fort,  and  things  were  sot  out  in  an  arbour, 
surrounded  with  honeysuckle,  and  Isabella  grape,  and  what 
not ;  there  was  a  view  of  the  fort  from  it,  and  that  ,elegant 
lak^  and  endless  forest ;  it  was  lovely — ^that's  a  fact ;  and  the 
birds  flocked  round  the  place,  lighted  on  it,  and  sung  so  sweet, 
— I  thought  it  wll  the  most  romantic  thing  I  ever  seed  since 
I  was  a  created  sinner.  So  said  I  to  his  wife,  ^a  German  lady 
from  one  of  the  emigrant  ships,)  I  prefer,  said  I,  your  band 
of  birds  to  the  Bowery  band  of  New  York,  bv  a  long  chalk ; 
it's  natur's  music,  it's  most  delightful,  it's  splendid !  Furder 
off,  said  she,  I  like  'em  more  better  hash  nearer;  for  the  nasty, 
dirty  tivils  they  tirt  in  the  tay  and  de  shuker ;  look  there,  she 
said,  that's  de  tird  cup  now  spilte.  jLiord,  it  made  me  sick ! 
I  never  had  any  romance  in  me  arter  that. 

Here  the  English  gall  turned  round  and  looked  at  me  for  a 
space  quite  hard.  Said  she,  you  are  a  humorous  people,  Mr. 
Slick  ;  you  resemble  the  Irish  very  much, — you  remind  me 
greatly  of  that  lively,  light-hearted,  agreeable  people.  Thank 
you,  said  I,  marm,  for  that  compliment;  we  are  giner^lly 
thought  to  resemble  each  other  very  much,  both  in  looks  and 
dress ;  there's  often  great  mistakes  made  whenthey  first  land 
from  the  likeness. 

Arter  a  considerablr;  of  a  pause,  she  said.  This  must  be  a 
religious  country,  said  she,  ain't  it  ?  for  religion  is  the  "  high- 
est fact  in  man's  right,  and  the  root  of  all  democracy."  If 
religion  is  the  root  of  democracy,  said  I,  it  bears  some 
strange  fruit  sometimes,  as  the  man  said  of  the  pine-tree  the 
five  gamblers  were  Lynched  jp  to  Vixburg.  I'm  glad  to  see, 
said  she,  you  have  no  establishment — it's  an  incubus — a  dead 
weight — a  nightmare.  1  ain't  able,  said  I ;  I  can't  afford  it 
no  now ;  and  besides,  said  I,  I  can't  get  no  one  to  have  me. 
Them  that  I  would  have  won't  have  me»  and  them  that  wpuld 


\ 


42 


A     THE   CLOCKMAKBR.     ^'%. 


'V 


have  me,  the  devil  wouldn't  have,  so  I  don't  see  aa-I'm  liue 
to  be  troubled  with  a  nightmare  for  one  while.  I  don't  mean 
that,  said  she,  laughin' ;  I  mean  an  Established  Church.  Oh  I 
an  Established  Church,  said  I ;  now  I  understand ;  but  when 
I  hear  ladies '  talk  of  establishments,  I  always  think  they 
have  matrimony  in  their  heads.  The  truth  is,  squire,  I  don't 
like  to  hear  English  people  come  out  here,  and  abuse  their 
church  ;  they've  got  a  church  and  throve  under  it,  and  a  ^na- 
tional character  under  it,  for  honour  and  upright  dealin',  such 
as  no  other  people  in  Europe  have :  indeed,  I  could  tell  you 
of  some  folks  who  have  to  call  their  goods  English  to  get 
them  off  in  a  foreign  land  at  all.  The  name  sells  'cot.  You 
may  boast  of  this  tree  or  that  tree,  and  call  'em  this  diction- 
ary namo-  and  that  new-fangled  name,  but  give  me  the  tree 
tluU  bears  the  best  fruity  I  say.  %i>^:^' *; 

A  church  must  be  paid,  and  the  mode  don't  much  signify ; 
at  any  rate,  it  ain't  for  them  to  abuse  it,  tho*  other  folks  may 
choose  to  copy  it,  or  let  it  alone,  as  it  convenes  them.  Your 
people,  said  she,  are  in  advance  of  the  clergy ;  your  ministers 
are  half  men,  halt  women,  with  a  touch  of  the  noodle.  You'd 
be  better  without  'em;  their  parochial  visits  do  more  harm 
than  good.  In  that  last  remark,  said  I,  I  concur ;  for  if  there's 
a  gall  in  their  vicinity,  with  a  good  fortin',  they'll  snap  her  up 
at  once;  a  feller  has  no  chance  with  'em.  One  on  'em  did 
brother  Eldad  out  of  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  that  way. 
I  don't  speak  of  that,  said  she,  rather  short  like ;  but  they 
haven't  moral  courage.  They  are  not  bold  shepherds,  but 
timid  sheep ;  they  don't  preach  abolition,  they  don't  meddle 
with  public  rights.  As  to  that,  said  I,  they  don't  think  it 
right  to  hasten  on  the  crisis,  to  preach  up  a  servile  war,  to 
encourage  the  blacks  to  cut  their  masters'  throats ;  they  think 
it  a  dangerous  subject  any  way ;  and  besides,  said  I,  they 
have  scruples  o'  conscience  if  they  ought  to  stir  in  it  at  all. 
These  matters  are  state  rights,  or  state  wrongs,  if  you  please, 
and  our  Northern  States  have  no  more  right  to  interfere  in 
'em  than  they  have  to  interfere  in  the  affairs  of  any  other  in- 
dependent sovereign  state  in  Europe.  So  I  don't  blame  minis- 
ters much  for  that,  arter  all, — so  come  now.  In  Englanc, 
says  I,  you  maintain  that  they  ought  not  to  meddle  with  pub- 
lic rights,  and  call  'em  political  priests,  and  all  that  sort  o' 
thing,  and  here  you  abuse  'em  for  not  meddlin'  with  'em ;  call 
'em  cowards,  dumb  dogs,  slaves  to  public  opinion,  and  what 
not.    There's  no  pleasin' some  folks.       \  s  ...,,.„... i 


TRAVELLING    IN    AMERICA. 


43 


As  to  religion,  says  I,  bein'  the  "  root  of  democracy,"  it's 
the  root  of  monarchy  too,  and  all  governments,  or  ought  to 
be;  and  there  ainU  that  wide  difference  arter  all  atween  the 
two  countries  some  folks  think  on.  Government  here,  both 
in  theory  and  practice,  resides  with  the  people ;  and  religion 
is  under  the  care  of  the  rael  government.  With  you,  govern- 
ment is  in  the  executive,  and  religion  is  m  the  hands  of  the 
government  there.  Church  and  state  are  to  a  sartain  extent 
connected  therefore  in  both.  The  difference  with  us  is,  we 
don't  prefer  one  and  establish  it,  and  donH  render  its  support 
compulsory.  Better,  perhaps,  if  we  did,  for  it  burns  pretty 
near  out  sometimes  here,  and  has  to  be  brought  to  by  revivals 
and  camp-meetins',  and  all  sorts  of  excitements ;  and  when 
it  does  come  to,  it  don't  give  a  steady  clear  light  for  some 
time,  but  spits  and  sputters  and  cracks  like  a  candle  that's  got 
a  drop  o'  water  on  the  wick.  It  don't  seem  kinder  rational, 
neither,  that  screffmin'  and  screechin',  and  hoopin'  And  hoU 
lerin',  like  possest,  and  tumblin'  into  faintin's,  and  fits,  and 
swoons,  and  what  not. 

/  don't  like  preachiiC  to  the  narves  instead  of  the  judg- 
ment.— I  recollect  a  lady  once,  tho',convarted  by  preachin'  to 
her  narves,  that  was  an  altered  woman  all  the  rest  o'  her 
days.  Hov/  was  that  ?  said  she ;  ,these  stories  illustrate  the 
"  science  of  religion."  I  like  to  hear  them.  There  was  a 
lady,  said  I,  (and  I  thought  I'd  give  her  a  story  for  her  book,) 
that  tried  to  rule  her  husband  a  little  tighter  than  was  agreea- 
ble,— meddlin'  with  things  she  didn't  onderstand,  and  dictatin' 
in  matters  of  politics  and  religion,  and  every  thing  a'most. 
So  one  day  her  husband  had  got  up  considerable  airly  in  the 
mornin',  and  went  out  and  got  a  tailor,  and  brought  him  into 
his  wife's  bed-room  afore  she  was  out  o'  bed : — "  Measure 
that  woman,"  said  he,  "  for  a  pair  of  breeches t  she's  detar- 
mined  to  wear  'em,  and  I'm  resolved  folks  shall  know  it,"  and 
he  shook  the  cowskin  over  the  tailor's  head  to  show  him  he 
intended  to  be  obeyed.  It  cured  hor, — she  begged,  and  pray- 
ed, and  cried,  and  promised  obedieice  to  hen  husband.  He 
spared  her,  but  it  effectuated  a  cure.  Now  that's  what  I  call 
preachin^  to  the  narves :  Lord,  how  she  would  have  kicked 

and  squeeled  if  the  tailor  had  a .   A  very  good  story,  said 

she,  abowin'  and  amovin'  a  little,  so  as  not  to  hear  about  the 
measurin', — a  very  good  story  indeed. 

If  you  was  to  revarse  that  maxim  o'  yourn,  said  I,  and  say 
democracy  is  too  ofle'n  found  at  the  root  of  religion,  you'd  be 


\. 


44 


■a       THE  CLOCKHAKER. 


.   r 


K 


% 


nearer  the  mark,  I  reckon.  I  knew  a  case  once  exactly  in 
point.  Do  tell  it  to  me,  said  she ;  it  will  illustrate  "  the  spirit 
of  i^ligion."  Yos,  said  I,  and  illustrate  your  book  too,  if  you 
are  a  writin'  one,  as  most  English  travellers  do.  Our  con> 
gregation,  said  I,  at  Slickville,  contained  most  of  the  wealthy 
and  respectable  folk  there,  and  a  most  powerful  and  united 
body  it  was.  Well,  there  came  a  split  once  on  the  election 
of  an  elder,  and  a  body  of  the  upper<crust  folks  separated  and 
went  off  in  a  huff.  Like  most  folks  that  separate  in  temper, 
they  laid  it  all  to  conscience ;  found  out  all  at  once  they  had 
been  adrifl  afore  all  their  lives,  and  join'd  another  church  as 
differen!.  from  our'n  in  creed  as  chalk  is  from  cheese ;  and  to 
show  their  humility,  hooked  on  to  the  poorest  congregation  in 
the  place.  Well,  the  minister  was  quite  lifled  up  in  the  stir- 
rups when  he  saw  these  folks  gine  him ;  and  to  shov  his  zeal 
for  them  the  next  Sunday,  he  looked  up  at  the  gallery  to  the 
niggers,  and,  said  he,  my  brether^n,  said  he,  I  beg  you  wonU 
spit  down  any  more  on  the  aisle  seats,  for  there  be  gentlemen 
there  now.  Gist  turn  your  heads,  my  sable  friends,  and  let 
go  over  yfiur  shqulders.  Manners,  my  brothers,  manners  be- 
fbre  backey.  Well,  the  niggers  seceded  ;  they  said,  it  was  an 
infringement  on  their  rights,  on  their  privilege  of  spittinS  as 
freemen,  where  they  liked,  how  they  liked,  and  when  they 
liked,  and  they'quit  in  a  body.  "  Democracy,"  said  they,  "  is 
tlje  root  of  religion." 

is  that  a  fact  ?  said  she.  No  mistake,  said  I ;  T  seed  it  my- 
self; I  know  'em  all.  Well,  it's  a  curious  fact,  said  she,  and 
very  illustrative.  It  illu«trates  the  universality  of  spittin',  and 
the  universality  of- democracy.  It's  characteristic.  I  have 
no  fear  of  a  people  where  the  right  of  spittin'  iaheld  sacred 
from  the  interminable  assaults  of  priestcrafl.  She  laid  down 
her  trumpet,  and  took  out  her  pocket-book  and  began  to  write 
it  down.  She  swallar'd  it  all.  I  have  seen  her  book  since, 
it's  gist  what  I  expected  from  her.  The  chapter  on  religion 
strikes  at  the  root  of  all  religion ;  and  the  effects  of  sufih  doc- 
trines are  exhibited  in  the  gross  slander  she  has  written  ag'in 
her  own  sex  in  the  States,  from  whom  she  received  nothin' 
but  kindness  and  hospitality.  I  don't  call  that  pretty  at  all ; 
it's  enough  to  drive  hospitality  out  of  the  land. 

I  know  what  you  allude  to,  said  I,  and  fully  concur  with 
you  in  opinion,  th  t  it  is  a  gross  abominable  slander,  adopted 
on  insufficient  authority,  and  the  more  abominable  from  com- 
ing from  a  woman.     Our  church  may  be  aristocratic ;  but  if 


'Q  exactly  in 
e  "  the  spirit 
•k  too,  if  you 
'•     Our  con- 
the  wealthy 
«1  and  united 
the  election 
parated  and 
e  in  temper, 
ce  they  had 
r  church  as 
ese ;  and  to 
^regation  in 
in  the  stir- 
ov  his  zeal 
llery  to  the 
you  won't 
gentlemen 
isj  and  let 
lanners  be- 
t  it  was  an 
spittin*,  as 
when  they 
1  they, « is 

sed  it  my- 
i  she,  and 
ittin',  and 
I  have 
3ld  sacred 
laid  down 
n  to  write 
ok  since, 
religion 
lUfih  doc- 
ten  ag'in 
i  nothin' 
y  at  all  ; 

cur  with 
adopted 
>m  com- 
I  but  if 


TRAVELLIlfO   IN    AMBRICA. 


45 


it  is,  it  teaches  good  manners,  and  a  regard  for  the  decenciM 
of  life.  Had  she  listened  more  to  the  regular  clergy,  and  lesn 
to  the  modem  illuminati,  she  might  have  learned  a  little  of 
that  charity  which  induces  us  to  think  well  of  others,  and  to 
speak  ill  of  none.  It  certainly  was  a  great  outrage,  and  I  am 
sorry  that  outrage  was  perpetrated  by  an  Bn^lishwoman.  I 
am  proper  glad  you  agree  with  me,  squire,  said  he  ;.but  come 
and  see  for  yourself,  and  I  will  explain  matters  to  you ;  for 
without  some  one  to  let  you  into  things  you  wonH  understand 
us.  ril  take  great  pleasure  in  bein*  your  guide,  for  I  must 
say  I  like  your  conversation.'— How  singular  this  is  1  to  the 
natural  reserve  of  my  country,  I  add  an  uncommon  taci- 
turnity ;  but  this  peculiar  adaptation  to  listening  has  every 
where  established  for  me  that  rare,  but  most  desirable  reputa- 
tion, of  being  a  good  companion.  It  is  evident,  therefore,  that 
listeners  are  everywhere  more  scarce  than  talkeis,  and  are 
valued  accordingly.  Indeed,  without  them,  what  v/ould  be- 
come of  the  talkers  ? 

Yes,  I  like  your  conversation,  said  the  clockmaker  (who  the 
reader  must  have  observed  has  had  all  the  talk  to  himself). 
We  are  like  the  Chinese ;  they  have  two  language.,  the  writ- 
ten language  and  the  spoken  language.  Strangers  only  get 
as  far  as  the  spoken  one ;  but  all  secret  afiairs  of  religion  and 
government  are  sealed  up  in  the  written  one ;  they  can't  inake 
nothin'  of  it.  That's  gist  the  case  with  us ;  we  have  two  lan- 
guages, one  for  strangers,  and  one  for  ourselves.  A  stranger 
must  know  this,  or  he's  all  adriil.  We've  got  our  own  duB- 
culties,  our  own  doubts,  our  own  troubles,  as  well  as  other 
folks, — it  would  be  strange  if  we  hadn't ;.  but  we  don't  choose 
to  blart  'em  all  out  to  the  world. 

Look  at  our  President's  Message  last  year ;  he  said,  we  was 
the  most  prosperous  nation  on  the  face  of  the  airth,  peace  and 
plenty  spreadin'  over  the  land,  and  more  wealth  than  we 
know'd  how  to  spend.  At  that  very  time  we  was  on  the  point 
of  national  bankruptcy.  He  said,  the  great  fire  at  New  York 
did'nt  cause  one  failure ;  good  reason  why,  the  goods  were  all 
owned  at  London  and  Lyons,  and  the  failures  took  place  there, 
and  not  here.  Our  President  said  on  that  occasion,  our  maxim 
is,  "  do  no  wrong,  and  suffer  no  insult."  Well,  at  that  very 
time  our  gineral  was  marchin'  into  the  Mexican  territory,  and 
our  people  off  South,  boarded^Texas  and  took  it, — and  our 
folks  down  North-east  were  ready  to  do  the  same  neighbourly 
act  to  Canada,  only  waitin'  for Papeneau  to  say,  "All  ready.  * 


•I 
46 


\ 


THB  CLOCKMAKER. 


•r«  , 


He  boasted  we  had  no  national  debt,  but  a  large  surplus  reve- 
nue  in  the  public  chist,  and  yet,  add  up  the  public  debt  of  each 
separate  state,  and  see  what  a  whappin*  large  one  that  makes. 
We  don*t  intertain  strangers,  as  the  English  do,  with  the  trou* 
bles  of  our  hovisehold  and  the  bother  our  servants  give  us ; 
we  think  it  ainU  hospitable,  nor  polished,  nor  even  good  man* 
ners ;  we  keep  that  for  the  written  language  amonji;  ourselves. 
If  you  don't  believe  my  word,  go  and  ask  the  Britisher  that 
was  at  Mr.  Madison's  court  when  the  last  war  broke  out — he 
was  the  only  man  to  Washington  that  knowM  nothing  about 
it — he  didn't  understand  the  language.  I  guess  you  may  go 
and  pack  up  your  duds  and  go  home,  said  Mr.  Madison  to  him 
one  day,  when  be  called  there  to  the  levee.  Go  gome !  said 
he,  and  he  wrinkled  up  his  forehead,  and  drew  up  bis  eyelids, 
as  much  as  to  say,  I  estimate  you  arc  mad,  ain't  you  ?  Go 
home !  saic^ie.  What  for  ?  Why,  said  he,  I  reckon  we  are 
at  war.  At  war !  said  the  Englishman ;  why,  you  don't  say 
so?  there  can't  be  a  word  of  truth  in  the  report:  my  dispatches 
say  nothin'  of  it.  Perhaps  not,  said  the  President,  quite  cool, 
(only  a  slight  twitch  of  his  mouth  showed  how  he  would  like 
to  haw,  haw,  right  out,  only  it  warn't  decent,)  perhaps  not, 
but  I  presume  I  declared  war  yesterday,  when  you  was  en- 
gaged a  playin'  of  a  game  at  chess  with  Mrs.  Madison.  Folks 
say  they  raelly  pitied  him,  he  looked  so  taken  aback,  so 
streaked,  so  completely  dumbfounded.  No,  when  I  say  you 
can't  make  its  out,  you  always  laugh ;  but  it's  true  you  can't 
without  an  interpreter.  We  speak  the  English  language  and 
the  American  language ;  you  must  lam  the  American  Ian- 
guage^  if  you  want  to  understand  the  American  people. 


^ftj':  ;■;  ■'^'v'-.r'^ 


ii$'»-' 


I  r  ••■• 


CHAPTER  VI.  '" 


'itjy 


-/# 


I 


.^y. 


ELECTIVE  COUNCILS.  1 

.•VJJ''-.  ,.^■;.'•^?^«r 
WHAT  would  be  the  effect,  Mr.  Slick,  said  I,  of  elective 
councils  in  this  country,  if  governmeilt  would  consent  to  make 
the  experiment  ?  Why,  that's  a  thing,  said  he,  you  can't  do 
m  your  form  o'  government,  tryin'  an  experiment,  tho'  wo 
can ;  you  can't  give  the  worc^f  command,  if  it  turns  out  & 
bunglin'  piece  of  business,  that  they  use  in  militia  trainin', — 
"  as  vou  were."    It's  different  with  us — we  en,— our  govern- 


plus  reve. 
sbtofeach 
lat  makes. 
1  the  trou' 

8  give  lis; 
jood  man- 
ourselves, 
isher  that 

9  out — he 
ng  about 

may  so 
on  to  him 
met  said 
3  eyelids, 
5u?    Go 
1  we  are 
on't  say 
spatches 
lite  cool, 
>uld  like 
aps  not, 
was  en- 
.   Folks 
tacky  so 
say  you 
>u  can't 
ige  and 
m  Ian- 


ELBCTIVE  COUirCILS. 


47 


■■v#^ 


lective 
make 
n't  do 
lo'  wo 
out  a 
in',- 
vem- 


ment  is  a  democracy,— all  power  is  in  the  people  at  large ; 
we  can  go  on  and  change  from  one  thing  to  another,  and  try 
any  experiment  we  choose,  as  often  as  we  like»  for  all  changes 
have  the  like  reeuU,  of  leavin'  the  power  in  the  tame  plaee 
and  the  tame  handt.  But  you  must  know  beforehand  h9W  it 
will  work  in  your  mixed  government,  and  shouldnU  miCke  no 
change  ydu  ain't  sure  about.  What  good  would  an  elective 
council  be  ?  It  is  thought  it  would  give  the  upper  branches, 
said  I,  more  community  of  feeling,  more  sympathy,  and  more 
weight  with  the  country  at  large ;  that  being  selected  by  the 
people,  the  people  would  have  more  confidence  in  them,  and 
that  more  efficient  and  more  suitable  men  would  be  chosen  by 
the  freeholders  than  by  the  crown.  You  would  gist  get  tlM 
identical  same  sort  o'  crittersj  said  he,  in  the  eend,  as  the 
members  of  Assembly,  if  they  were  elected,  and  no  better ; 
they  would  be  selected  by  the  same  judges  of  hqrse-ilesh  as 
toother,  and  chose  out  o'  the  same  flock.  It  would  be  the  same 
breed  o'  cattle  at  last.  But,  said  I,  you  forget  that  it  is  pro- 
posed to  raise  the  qualification  of  the  voters  from  forty  shillings 
to  forty  pounds  per  year ;  whereby  you  would  have  a  better 
class  of  eltKitors,  and  insure  a  better  selection.  Gist  you  try 
it,  said  he,  and  there  would  be  an  eend  to  the  popular  motions 
in  the  House  of  Assembly  to  extend  the  suffrages — for  every 
thing  that  gives  power  to  numherty  will  carry  numberty  and 
be  popular,  and  every  feller  who  lived  on  excitement,  would 
be  for  everlastin'ly  a  agitatin'  of  it.  Candidate,  Slangwhanger, 
and  Member.  You'd  have  no  peace,  you'd  be  for  ever  on  the 
move  as  our  citizens  are  to  New  York,  and  they  move  into 
a  new  house  every  first  o'  May-day.  If  there  be  any  good 
in  that  are  Council  at  all,  it  is  in  their  bein'  placed  above 
popular  excitement,  and  subject  to  no  influence  but  that  of 
reason,  and  the  fitness  of  things :  chaps  that  have  a  consider- 
able stake  in  the  country,  and  don't  buy  their  seats  by  pledges 
ai^d  promises,  pledges  that  half  the  time  ruin  the  country  if 
they  are  kept,  and  always  ruin  the  man  that  breaks  'em.  It's 
better  as  it  is  in  the  hands  of  the  government.  It's  a  safety- 
valve  now,  to  let  off  the  fume,  and  steam,  and  vapour,  gene- 
rated by  the  heat  of  the  lower  House.  If  you  make  that 
branch  elective  you  put  the  government  right  into  the  gap, 
and  all  difference  of  opinion,  instead  of  bein'  between  the  two 
branches  as  it  is  now,  (that  is,  in  fact,  between  the  people 
themselves,)  would  then  occur  in  all  cases  between  the  people 
and  the  governor.    Afoie  long  that  would  either  seal  up  thr 


48  THE  CLOCKIIAKSR. 

v<Hce  of  the  executive,  so  that  they  darn't  call  their  souls  their 
own,  or  make  'em  onpopular,  and  whenever  the  executive  once 
fairly  ^rets  into  that  are  pickle,  there's  an  end  of  the  colony, 
«ind  a  declaratign  of  independence  would  soon  foUer.  Papinor 
knows  that,  and  that's  the  reason  he's  so  hot  for  it« — he  knows 
what  it  would  lead  to  in  the  eend.  That  critter  may  want 
ginger,  for  ought  I  know ;  but  he  don't  want  for  gumption  you 
may  depend*  EUetivt  comteiU  are  ineotuiatetU  with  colonial 
dependence.  It's  takin'  away  the  crane  that  bdds  up  the  pot 
from  the  fire,  to  keep  it  from  boilin'  over,  and  ciappin'  it  right 
on  the  hot  coab :  what  a  gallopin'  boil  it  would  sooq  come 
into,  wouldn't  it?  In  all  mixed  governments,  like  your'n, 
the  true  rule  is  never  to  interfere  with  pop'lar  rights  estab- 
lished* Amend  what  is  wrong,  concede  what  is  right,  and  do 
whffi  is  just  always ;  but  yreaarve  tht  balance  of  the  conaHtU' 
tian  for  your  life.  One  pound  weight  only  taken  off  the 
executive,  and  put  on  t'other  eend,  is  like  a  shift  of  the  weight 
on  a  well  balanced  plank  till  it  won't  plav  true  no  more,  but 
keeps  a  slidin'  and  a  slidin'  down  by  leetle  and  leetle  to  the 
heaviest  eend,  till  it  all  stays  down  to  one  side,  and  won't 
work  no  longer.  It's  a  system  of  checks  now,  kit  when  all 
the  checks  run  together,  and  make  only  one  Wf ight^  thev'll 
do  as  our  senate  did  once  (for  that  ain't  no  check  no  more) — 
it  actilly  passed  that  cussed  embargo  law  of  Jefferson's  that 
ruined  our  trade,  rotted  our  shippin',  and  bankrupted  the 
whole  nation,  arter  it  come  up  from  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives through  all  its  three  readin's  in  four  hours ;  I  hope  I  may 
be  skinned  if  it  didn't.  It  did,  I  snore.  That's  the  beauty 
of  havin'  two  bodies  to  look  at  things  thro'  only  one  spyglass, 
and  blow  bubbles  thro'  one  pipe.  There's  no  appeal,  qo 
redress,  in  that  case,  and  what's  more,  when  one  party  gives 
riders  to  both  horses,  they  ride  over  you  like  wink,  and  tread 
you  right  under  foot,  as  arbitrary  as  the  old  Scratch  himself. 
There's  no  tyranny  on  airth  equal  to  the  tyranny  of  a  major' 
ityj  you  can't  form  no  notion  of  it  unless  you  seeid  it.  Just 
see  how  they  sarved  them  chaps  to  Baltimore  last  war,  Gene- 
ral Lingan  and  thirty  other  &llers  that  had  the  impudence  to 
say  they  didn't  approve  of  the  doin's  of  the  administration ; 
they  gist  lyjoched  'em  and  stoned  'em  to  death  like  dogs. 

We  find  among  us  the  greateti  democrats  are  the  greatetl 
tyrants.  No,  squire ;  repair,  amend,  ^large,  ventilate,  mo- 
demi2e  a  little  too,  if  you  like,  your  structure ;  put  new  ro(^, 
new  porch,  winders  and  doors,  fresh  paint  and  shingle  it,  inoko 


loula  their 
utive  OQoe 
le  colony, 

Papinor 
be  knows 
"Jay  want 
)tioi}  you 
colonial 
p  the  pot 

It  right 
>oa  come 

your*n, 
its  estab- 
» and  do 
oon§titU' 
off  the 
B  weight 
lore,  but 
e  to  the 
d  won't 
^hen  all 
[  thevMl 
nore)-~ 
q's  that 
ted  the 
"osenta- 
)  I  may 
beauty 
yglass, 
5al,  po 
f  gives 
1  tread 
imself. 
viq;or- 

Just 
Gene- 
Dce  to 
Ettion ; 

• 

t  mo. 
roof, 

0^0 


KLBCTIVIi  ccuiraLS.  li 

it  more  attractive  and  pleasSiiter  to  inhabit,  and  of  course  it 
will  be  more  valuable  ;*-but  do  you  leave  the  foundation  alone 
•—don't  you  meddle  with  the  frame,  the  braces,  and  girts  for 
your  life,  or  it  will  spread,  bulge  out,  leak  like  the  devil,  and 
come  to  pieces  some  o'  these  stormy  nights  about  your  ears 
as  sure  as  you  are  born.  Make  no  orgame  change§.  There 
are  quacks  in  politics,  squire,  as  well  as  in  med'cine,-— critters 
who  hove  unevarsal  pills  to  cure  all  sorts  o*  diseases ;  and 
many*s  the  constitution,  human  and  politic,  they've  fixt  atween 
them.  There's  no  knowin'  the  |^npes  and  pains  and  colics 
they've  caused ;  and  the  worst  of  it  is,  the  poor  devils  that  set 
in  their  hands,  when  they  are  on  the  broad  of  their  faa<%s 
can't  help  themselves,  but  turn  up  the  whites  of  their  eyes, 
and  say.  Oh  dear  I  I'm  very  bad :  how  will  it  so  ?  Go,  says 
they ;  why,  like  a  house  anre, — full  split,-'-gom*  on  grandlv, 
-—couldn't  do  no  better, — gist  what  was  expected.  Tmrll 
have  a  new  constitution^  strong  as  a  lion:  oh!  goic*  on 
grandly.  Well,  I  dont  know,  says  the  misfortunate  critter ; 
but  I  feels  a  plaguy  sight  more  like  goin'  q^than  goin'  on,  I 
tell  $fou.  Then  comes  apickin  o*  the  bed-clothes,  a  clammy 
sweat,  cold  feet,  the  hiccup,  rattles,  and  death.  Sarve  him 
right,  says  quack ;  the  cussked  fool  has  had  doctors  too  long 
about  him  in  former  days,  and  they  sapped  his  constitution, 
and  fixt  his  flint  for  hiin :  why  did'nt  he  call  me  in  sooner? 
The  consaited  ass  thought  he  knowed  every  thing,  and  didn't 
foller  out  all  my  prescriptions;  one  comfort,  though-- his  estate 
shall  pay  for  it,  I  vow.  Yes,  squire,  ,and  diat  is  the  pity,  win 
or  lose,  live  or  die,  the  estate  dc3s  pay  for  it-— that's  a  fact ; 
and  what's  woi'ser,  too,  many  on  'em  care  more  about  dividin' 
the  spoil  than  effectin*  the  cure,  by  a  long^chalk. 

There's  always  some  jugglery  or  quackery  agoin'  on  every 
where  a'most.  It  puts  me  m  mind  of  the  Wihnot  springs.—* 
One  of  the  greatest  flams  I  ever  heerd  tell  of  in  this  province, 
was  brought  out  hereabouts  in  Wilmot,  and  succeeded  for  a 
space  beyond  all  calculation.  Our  sea  sarpant  was  no  touch 
to  it, — and  that  was  a  grand  steamboat  speckilation  too,  for  a 
nation  sight  of  folks  went  from  Boston  down  to  Providence 
and  back  ag'in,  on  purpose  to  see  the  sarpant  in  the  boat  that 
firs,  spoke  it  out  to  sea.  But  then  they  were  all  pleaaurin* 
parties,  young  folks  takin'  a  trip  by  water,  instead  of^a  quiltin' 
frolic  to  shore.  It  gave  the  galls  somethin'  to  talk  about  and 
to  do,  to  strain  their  little  eyes  through  the  captain'e  great  iHg 
spy  .glass,  to  see  their  nateral  enemy,  the  sarpr  t ;  and  you 
5 


\ 


m  TUB  OLOOKMAKaK. 

may  depend  they  had  all  the  curioaity  of  old  Marm  Ere  too. 
it  wai  all  young  hearts  and  younfl  eyep,  and  pretty  ones  they 
were,  1  tell  |fo«.  But  thia  here  Wilmot  wonder  was  sort  of  a 
Aineral  afiair,  an  old  and  ugly  assortifnent,  a  kind  of  Irish 
wake,  pari  dead>and  part  alive,  where  one  half  groaned  with 
sorrow  and  pain,  and  toother  half  groaned  to  keep  'em  com- 
pany ,-~a  rael,  right  down  genutn«  hysteric  frolic,  near  about 
as  much  cryin*  as  laughin*, — it  beat  all  natur*.  I  believe  they 
actilly  did  good  in  sartain  cases,  in  proper  doses  with  proper 
diet ;  and  in  some  future  day,  ^n  more  knowin*  hands  they 
will  come  into  vogue  ag'in,  and  make  a  good  speckilaticm ; 
but  I  have  always  obsarved  when  an  article  is  once  run  down, 
and  folks  And  out  that  it  has  got  more  puffin'  than  it  deserves, 
they  don't  give  it  no  credit  at  all,  and  it  is  a  long  time  afora  it 
comes  round  agin.  The  Wilmot  springs  are  situated  on  the 
right  there,  awa^  up,  onder  that  mountain  a-head  on  us. 
They  sartainly  did  make  a  wonderful  great  noise  three  years 
ago.  If  the  pool  of  Saloom  had  been  there,  it  couldn't  ahad 
a  greater  crowd  o'  clowns  about  it.  The  lame  aM'*.  maimed^ 
the  consumptive  an(^  dropsical,  the  cancerous  and  leprous,  the 
old  drunkard  and  the  young  rake,  tho  barren  wife  and  sick 
maid,  the  larfin'  catholic  and  sour  sectary,  high  and  k(W,  rich 
and  poor,  black  and  white,  fools  of  all  ages,  sizes,  and  degrees, 
were  assembled  there  adrinkin',  bathin',  and  awasliin'  in  the 
waters,  and  carryin'  off  the  mud  for  poultices  and  plaisters. 
It  killed  some,  and  cured  some,  and  fool'd  a  nation  sight  of 
folks.  Down  at  the  mouth  of  the  spring,  where  it  discharges 
into  a  stream,  there  is  a  soft  bottom,  and  there  you'd  see  a 
feller  standing  with  one  leg  stuck  in  the  mud ;  another  lying 
on  a  plank,  with  an  arm  shoved  into  the  ooze  up  to  the 
shoulder ;  a  third  asittin'  down,  with  a  mask  o'  mould  like  a 
gypsum  cast  on  his  head ;  others  with  naked  feet  spotted  all 
over  vnth  the  clay,  to  cure  corns ;  and  these  grouped  ag'in 
here  with  an  unfortunate  feller  with  a  stiff  arm,  who  could 
only  thrust  m  his  elbow ;  and  there  with  another  sittin'  on  a 
chair  adanglin'  his  feet  in  the  mire  to  cure  the  rheumatis ; 
while  a  third,  sunk  up  to  his  ribs,  had  a  man  aporiin'  water 
on  his  head  for  an  eruption,  as  a  gard'ner  waters  a  trans- 
planted cabbage*plant,  all  declarin'  they  felt  better,  and  won- 
derin'  it  had'nt  been  found  out  afbie.  It  was  horrid,  I  tell  yott| 
to  see  folks  makin'  such  fools  of  themselves. 

If  that  are  spring  had  belonged  to  an  American  citizen,  that 
bad  made  such  an  everlastin'  touss  abput  it,  folks  would  have 


said 

set 
sent  I 
at 
saw  I 
two 
wooli 

FoU 
8wa| 

batl 
tell 
liev< 


■LBOTIVB  GOV  ROILS. 


ftl 


3re  too. 
DM  they 
ortof  a 
of  Iriah 
Mdwith 
m  com- 
iT  about 
>ve  they 

proper 
da  they 
ilatioo ; 
1  down, 
•anres, 
afort  it 
on  the 
on  us. 
>yeara 
t  ahad 
aimed, 
us,  the 
d  sick 
Vj  rich 
«J"ees, 
in  the  > 
isters. 
;ht  of 
larges 
see  a 
lying 
a  the 
ike  a 
!d  all 
ag*in 
3ouId 
on  a 
atis; 
i^ater 
ans- 
von- 
jroUj 

that  ' 
lava 


said  "ty  calkelated  it  was  a  Yankee  trick ;  as  it  was,  ther 
set  eacti  other  on,  and  every  critter  that  came  home  from  it 
sent  half  a  dozen  neighbours  off, — so  none  on  *em  could  larf 
at  each  other.  The  road  was  actillv  covered  with  people.  I 
saw  one  old  goney,  seventy  years  of  age,  stuck  in  a  gig  atween 
two  matrasses,  like  a  carcase  of  mutton  atween  two  Dales  of 
wool  in  a  countryman's  cart.  The  old  fool  was  agoin*  to  be 
made  young,  and  to  be  married  when  he  returned  to  home. 
Folks  believed  every  thing  they  heerd  of  it.  They  actilly 
swallered  a  story  that  a  British  officer  that  had  a  cork  leg 
bathed  there,  and  the  flesh  growed  on  it,  so  that  no  soul  could 
tell  the  difference  atween  it  and  the  nateral  one.  They  be- 
lieved the  age  of  miracles  had  come ;  so  a  feller  took  a  dead 
pig  and  throw'd  it  in,  sayin'  who  know'd  as  it  cured  the  half 
dead,  that  it  wouldn't  go  the  whole  hog.  That  joke  fixt  the 
Wilmot  springs  i  it  turned  the  larf  against  'em  ;  and  it  was 
lucky  it  did,  for  they  were  findin'  springs  gist  like  'em  evary 
where.  Every  pool  the  pigs  had  ryled  was  tasted,  and  if  it 
was  too  bad  for  the  stomach,  it  was  pronounced  me  cinal. 
The  nearest  doctor  wrote  an  account  of  it  for  the  newspapers, 
and  said  it  had  sulphur  saltpetre  in  it,  and  that  the  mud  when 
dried  would  make  good  powder,  quite  good  enough  to  Mow 
gypsum  and  shoot  us  Yankees.  At  last  they  exploded  spon- 
taneous, the  sulphur,  saltpetre,  and  burnt  brans  went  off  them- 
selves, and  nothin'  has  ever  been  since  heerd  of  the  Wilmot 
springs. 

It's  pretty  much  the  case  in  politics;  folks  have  always 
some  bubble  or  another, — some  elective  council, — private  bal- 
lot,— short  parliaments,— or  some  pill  or  another  to  cure  all 
political  evils  in  natur' ;  with  quacks  enough  to  cry  'em  up, 
and  interested  quacks  also,  who  make  their  ned  out  of  'em, 
afore  people  get  tired  of  them  and  their  pills  too.  There  was 
a  time  when  there  was  too  many  public  officers  in  your  coun- 
cil here,  but  they've  died  off,  or  moved  oflT,  and  too  many  of 
'em  lived  to  Halifax,  and  too  few  of  'em  in  the  country,  and 
folks  thought  a  new  deal  would  give  'em  more  fair  play. 
Well,  they've  got  a  new  deal  now,  and  new  cards.  So  far  so 
good.  A  change  of  men  is  no  great  matter — natur'  is  a 
changin'  of  'em  all  the  time  if  government  don't.  But  the 
constitution  is  another  thing.  You  can't  take  out  the  vitals 
and  put  in  new  ones,  as  you  can  in  a  watch-case,  with  any 
great  chance  of  success,  as  ever  I  heerd  tell  of.  I've  seeti 
some  most  beautiful  operations  performed,  too,  by  brother 


\ 


«a 


THE  CrOCKJLiKBR' 


Eldad,  where  the  pfttients  lived  thro*  'em, — and  he  got  a 
plaguy  sight  of  credit  for  'em, — but  they  all  died  a  few  days 
arterwards.  Why,  'Dad,  says  I,  what  in  natur'  is  the  good 
o'  them  are  operations,  and  puttin'  the  poor  critters  to  all  that 
pain  and  misery,  and  their  estate  to  so  much  expense,  if  it 
don't  do  'em  no  good  ? — for  it  seems  to  me  that  they  all  do 
go  for  it ;  that's  sartain. 

Weil,  it  wari  a  dreadful  pretty  operation  tho',  Sam,  warik't 
it  ?  lie'd  say  ;  but  the  critter  vas  desperate  sick  and  peeower- 
fully  weak ;  I  raely  was  e'en  a'most  afeer'd  I  shouldn't  carry 
him  thro'  it*  But  what's  the  iise  on  it  a^  last,  when  it  kills 
'em  ?  said  I ;  for  you  see  they  do  slip  thro'  your  fingers  in 
the  eend.  A  feller,  s&^s  he,  Sam,  that's  considerable  slippery 
all  his  life,  may  be  a  little  slippery  towards  the  eend  on't,  and 
there's  no  help  for  it,  as  I  see ; — but  Sam,  said  he,  with  a  j^upe 
o'  the  head,  and  a  wirk  quite  knowin',.  you  ain't  up  to  snuff 
yc^  I  see.  It  don't  kill  'em  if  they  don't  die  under  the  knife  * 
if  you  can  carry  'em  *.hro'  the  operation,  and  they  die  next 
day,  they  always  die  of  sun'thin'  else,  and  the  doctor  is  a 
mad  J  man  for  ever  a,pd  a  day  arterwards,  too.  Do  you  ap- 
prehend now,  my  boy  ?  Yes,  says  I,  I  apprehend  there  are 
^k'lcks  in  other  trades,  as  well  as  the  clock  trade  ;  only  some 
on  'em  ain't  quite  so  innocent,  and  there's  isome  I  wouldn't 
like  to  play  I  know.  No,  said  he,  I  suppose  not  ,*  and  th^n 
haw-hawin'  right  out-'-how  soft  we  aroj  Sa.n,  ain't  we? 
said  he.  .'''■■■■.  .r-  ■!f^t:'i=: 

Yes,  presarve  the  principii)  of  the  mechanism  of  your  con- 
stitution, for  it  aio't  a  bad  one,  and  presarve  the  balances,  and 
the  rest  you  can  improve  on  without  endangerin'  the  whc'e 
engin'.  One  thing  too  is  sartain, — a  power  imprudently  given 
to  the  executive,  or  to  the  people,  is  seldovii  or  never  get  back. 
I  ain'i  been  to  England  since  your  Reform  Bill  passed,  but 
some  folks  do  say  it  works  complete,  that  it  goes  as  easy  as  a 
lo^ided  wagon  down  hill,  full  chisel.  Now  suppose  that  bill 
was  found  to  be  alterin'  of  the  balances,  so  that  the  constitu- 
tion couldn't  work  many  years  longer,  without  acomin'  to  a 
dead  stand,  could  you  repeal  it  ?  and  say  "  as  you  were  ?" 
Let  a  bird  out  o'  your  hand  and  try  to  catch  it  ag'in,  will 
you  ?  No,  squire,  said  the  Clockmaker,  you  have  laws  a  ro- 
gilatin'  of  quack  doctors,  but  none  a  regiiatin'  of  quack  poli- 
ticians :  now  a  quack  doctor  is  bad  enough,  and  dangerous 
enough,  gracious  know3,  but  a  quack  politician  is  a  devil  out- 
lawed,-—that's  a  fact. 


!i-; 


f4'^-<  SLAVERY.      ^-' 


53 


got  a 
days 
good 

Ithat 
if  it 

all  do 


:•»->.■*;•• 


CHAPTER  VII. 


SLAVERY. 


t 


The  road  from  Kentyille  to  Wilmot  passes  over  an  exten- 
sive and  dreary  sand  plain,  equally  fatiguing  to  man  and 
horse,  and  aAer  three  hours'  hard  dragging  on  this  heavy 
road,  wo  looked  out  anxiously  for  an  inn  to  rest  and  refresh 
our  gallant  "  Clay." 

There  it  is,  said  Mr.  Slick ;  you'll  know  it  by  that  high 
post,  on  which  they  have  jibitted  one  of  their  governors 
ahorseback  as  a  sign.  Thu  first  niaht  I  stopt  there,  I  vow  I 
couldn't  sleep  a  wink  for  the  creakin  of  it,  as  it  swung  back- 
wards  and  forwards  in  the  wind.  It  sounded  so  nateral  like, 
that  I  couldn't  help  thinkin'  it  was  a  rael  man  hung  in  chains 
there.  It  put  me  in  mind  of  the  slave  to  Charleston,  that 
was  strung  up  for  pysonin'  his  master  and  mistress.  When 
we  drove  up  to  the  door,  a  black  man  came  out  of  the  stable, 
and  took  the  horse  by  the  head  in  a  listless  and  reluctant  man- 
ner, but  his  attention  w»9  shortly  awakened  by  the  onimal, 
whom  he  soon  began  to  examine  attentively.  Him  don  t  look 
like  blue  nose,  said  blacky, — sartin  him  stranger.  Fine  crit- 
ter, dat,  by  gosh,  no  mistake. 

From  the  horse  his  eye  wandered  to  us;  when,  slowly 
quitting  his  hold  of  the  bridle,  and  stretching  out  his  head, 
and  stepping  anxiously  and  cautiously  round  to  where  the 
Clockmakr^r  was  standlu,;,  he  suddenly  pulled  off  his  hat,  and 
throwing  it  up  in  the  a  r,  uttered  one  of  the  most  piercing 
yells  I  think  I  ever  heard,  and  throwing  himself  upon  the 
ground,  seized  Mr.  Slick  round  the  legs  with  his  arms.  Oh, 
Massa  Sammy  !  Massa  Sammy  I  Oh,  my  Gor ! — only  tink 
old  Scippy  see  you  jnco  more !  How  you  do,  Massa  Sammy  ? 
Gor  Ormighty  bless  yon  :  How  you  do  ?  Why,  who  on  airth 
are  you  ?  said  the  Clockmaker ;  what  onder  the  sun  do  you 
mean  by  actin'  so  like  n  ravin'  distracted  fool  ?  Get  up  this 
minnit,  and  let  me  see  who  you  be,  or  I'll  give  you* a  sock- 
dologer  in  the  ear  with,rny  foot,  as  sure  as  you  are  born. 
Who  be  yov,  you  nigger  you?  Oh,  Massa  Sam,  you  no  re- 
collect Old  Scip, — Massa  'Slab's  nigger  boy  ?  How's  Massa 
Sy,  and  Missey  Sy,  and  all  our  children,  and  all  our  folks  to 
6* 


H 


^ 


\ 


:V«> 


M 


THE  CLOCKMAKER. 


'-:.* 


our  house  to  home?     Dc  dear  little  lily,  de  sweet. little  booty, 
de  litt'e  missy  baby.     Oh,  how  I  do  lub  'em  all ! 

In  this  manner  the  creature  ran  on,  incoherently  asking 
quqjstions,  sobl^ing,  and  blaming  himself  for  having  led  so 
good  a  master,  and  so  comfortable  a  home.  How  is  dat  black 
villain,  dat  Cato  1  he  continued ; — Massa  no  hang  him  yet  ? 
He  is  sold,  said  Mr.  Slick,  and  has  gone  to  New  OrIeen«,  I 
guess.  Oh,  I  grad,  upon  my  soul,  I  wery  grad;  then  he 
catch  it,  de  dam  black  nigger — it  sarve  him  right.  I  hope 
dey  cow.?kin  him  well — I  grad  of  dat,— -oh  Gor !  dat  is  good. 
I  tink  I  bee  him,  de  ugly  brute.  I  hope  they  lay  it  into  him 
weWydwm-himf  I  guess  ^^ou'd  better  on  harness  Old  Clay, 
and  not  leave  him  standii.  !1  day  in  the  sun,  said  Mr.  Slick. 
O  gopdy  gracy,  yes,  said  the  overjoyed  negro,  dat  I  will,  and 
rub  him  down  too  till  hnn  all  dry  as  bone, — debil  a  wet  hair 
left.  Oh,  only  tink,  Massa  Sammy  Slick, — ^Massa  Sammy 
Slick, — Scip  see  you  age  in ! 

The  Clockmaker  accompanied  him  to  the  stable,  and  there 
gratified  the  curiosity  of  that  affectionate  creature  by  answer 
ing  all  his  inquiries  afler  his  master's  family,  and  the  state 
of  the  plantation  and  the  slaves.     It  appears  that  he  had  been 
inveigled  away  by  the  mate  of  a  Boston  vessel  that  was  load-f 
ing  at  his  master's  estate ;  and,  notwithstanding  all  the  sweets  ' 
attending  a  state  of  liberty,  was  unhappy  under  the  influence 
of  a  cold  climate,  hard  labour,  and  the  absence  of  all  that 
real  sympathy,  which,  notwithstanding  the  rod  of  the  master, 
exists  nowhere  but  where  there  is  a  community  of  interests. : 
He  entreated  Mr.  Slick  to  take  him  into  his  employme^at,  and 
vowed  eternal  fidelity  to  h'm  and  his  family  if  he  would  re- 
ceive him  as  a  servant,  and  procure  his  manumission  from  his 
master. 

This  arrangement  having  been  effected  to  the  satisfaction 
of  both  parties,  we  proceeded  on  our  journey,  leaving  the 
poor  negro  happy  in  the  assurance  that  he  would  be  sent  to 
Slickville  in  the  autumn.  I  feel  provoked  with  that  black  ras-' 
cal,  said  Mr.  Slick,  for  bein'  such  a  born  fool  as  to  run  away 
from  so  good  a  master  as  Josiah,  for  he  is  as  kind-hearted  a 
critter  as  ever  lived, — that's  a  fact, — and  a  plaguy  easy  man 
to  his  niggers.  I  used  to  tell  him,  I  guessed  he  was  the  only 
slave  on  his  plantation,  for  he  had  to  see  arter  every  thin' ;  he 
had  a  dreadful  sight  more  to  do  than  they  had.  It  was  all 
work  and  no  play  with  him.  You  forget,  said  I,  that  his  la- 
bour was  voluntary,  and  for  his  own  benefit,  while  tiiat  of  the 


negr^ 
self. 
Unit^ 
havej 
he- 
It's 
knoi 


m 


fflr.AVERT. 


55 


negro  is  compulsory,  and  productive  of  no  advantage  to  him- 
self. What  do  you  think  of  the  abolition  of  slavery  in  the 
United  States  ?  said  I :  the  interest  of  the  subject  appears  to 
have  increased  very  much  of  late.  Well>  I  don't  know,  said 
he, — what  is  your  opinion  ?  I  ask,  I  replied,  for  information. 
It's  a  considerable  of  a  pnarl,  that  question,  said  he ;  I  don't 
know  as  I  ever  onravelled  it  altogether,  and  I  ain't  gist  quite 
sartain  I  can — it's  not  so  easy  as  it  looks.  I  recollect  thd 
English  gall  I  met  atravellin'  in  the  steamboat,  axed  mc  that 
same  question.  What  do  you  think  of  slavery,  said  she,  sir  ? 
Slavery,  marm,  said  I,  is  only  fit  for  white  lovers  (and  I  made 
the  old  lady  a  scrape  ot'  the  leg),— only  fit,  said  I,  for  white 
lovers  and  black  niggers.  What  an  idea,  said  she,  for  a  free 
man  in  a  land  of  freedont  to  utter !  How  that  dreadful  politi- 
cal evil  demoralizes  a  people !  how  it  deadens  our  feelin's, 
how  it  hardens  the  heart !  Have  you  no  pity  for  the  blacks  ? 
said  she  ;  for  you  treat  the  subject  with  as  much  levity  as  if, 
to  use  one  of  the  elegant  and  fashionable  phrases  of  this 
country,  you  thought  it  all  "  in  my  €yc."  No  marm,  said  I, 
with  a  very  grave  face,  I  haven't  no  pity  at  all  for  *emj  not 
the  least  mite  nor  morsel  in  the  world.  How  dreadful,  said 
she,  and  she  looked  ready  to  expire  with  sentiment.  No  feel- 
in'  at  all,  said  I,  marm,  for  the  blacks,  but  a  great  deal  of 
feelin'  for  the  whites.,  for  instead  of  bein'  all  in  my  eye,  it's  all 
in  my  nose,  to  have  them  nasty,  horrid,  fragrant  (Jritters,  agb- 
in'  thro'  the  house  like  scent-bottles  with  the  steppers  out, 
aparfumin'  of  it  up,  like  skunks — it's  dreadful !  Oh !  said  I, 
it's  enough  to  kill  the  poor  critters.  Phew  I  it  makes  me  sick, 
it  does.  No ;  I  keeps  my  pity  for  the  poor  whites,  for  they 
have  the  worst  of  it  by  a  long  chalk. 

The  constant  contemplation  of  this  painful  subject,  said  she, 
destroys  the  vision,  and  its  deformities  are  divested  of  their 
horrors  by  their  occurring  so  often  as  to  become  familiar. 
Thut,  I  said,  Miss,  is  a  just  observation,  and  a  profound  and 
a  cute  one  too — it  is  actilly  founded  in  natur'.  I  know  a  case 
in  pint,  I  said^  What  is  it  ?  said  she,  for  she  seemed  mighty 
fond  of  anecdotes  (she  wanted  'em  for  her  book,  I  guess,  for 
travels  without  auv^cdotes  is  like  a  puddin'  without  plums — all 
dough).  Why,  said  I,  marm,  father  had  an  English  cow,  a 
pet  cow  too,  and  a  beautiful  critter  she  was,  a  brindled  short- 
horn ;  he  gave  the  matter  of  eighty  dollars  for  her ; — she  was 

begot  by .     Vever  mind  her  pedigree,  said  she.     Well, 

says  I,  when  the  great  eclipse  was  (you've  heerd  tell  how  it 


66 


THE   OLOCKMAKER. 


frightens  cattle,  haven't  you  1)  Brindle  stared  pnd  stared  at  it 
so, — sAie  lost  her  eye-sight,  and  she  was  as  blind  as  a  bat 
ever  afterwards.  I  hope  I  may  be  shot  if  she  warn't.  Now, 
I  guess,  we  that  see  more  of  slavery  than  you,  are  like  Brin- 
dle ;  we  have  stared  at  it  so  long  we  can't  see  it  as  other  folks 
do.  You  are  a  droll  man,  said  she,  very  droll ;  but  seriously, 
now,  Mr.  Slick,  do  you  not  think  these  unfortunate  fellow- 
critters,  our  sable  brothers,  if  emancipated,  educated,  and 
civilized,  are  capable  of  as  much  refinement  and  as  high  a 
degree  of  polish  as  the  whites  ?  Well,  said  I,  joking  apart, 
miss, — there's  no  doubt  on  it.  I've  been  considerable  down 
South  atradin'  among  the  whites, — and  a  kind-hearted,  hospi- 
table, liberal  race  o  men  they  be,  as  ever  I  was  among — 
generous,  frank,  manly  folks.  Well,  I  seed  a  good  deal  of  the 
niggers,  too ;  it  couldn't  be  otherwise.  I  must  say  your  con- 
clusion is  a  just  one, — I  could  give  you  several  instances ;  but 
there  is  one  in  pitickelar  that  settles  the  question ;  I  seed  it 
myself  with  my  own  eyes  to  Charleston,  South  Car.  Now, 
said  she,  that's  what  I  like  to  hear ;  give  me  facts,  said  she, 
for  I  am  no  visionary,  Mr.  Slick ;  I  don't  build  up  a  theory, 
and  then  go  alookin  for  facts  to  support  it ;  but  gather  facts 
candidly  and  impartially,  and  then  coolly  and  logically  draw 
the  inferences.  Now  tell  me  this  instance  which  you  think 
conclusive,  for  nothin'  interests  us  English  so  much  as  what 
don't  consarn  us ;  our  West  Indgy  emancipation  has  worked 
so  well,  and  improved  our  islands  so  much,  we  are  enchunled 
with  the  very  word  emancipation;  it  has'a  charm  for  English 
ears,  beyond  anything  you  can  conceive. — Them  Islands  will 
have  spontaneous  production  afore  long.  But  the  refinement 
and  polish  of  these  interestin'  critters  the  blacks, — your  story 
if  you  please,  sir. 

I  have  a  younger  brother,  Miss,  said  I,  that  lives  down  to 
Charleston  ; — he's  a  lawyer  by  trade — Squire  Josiah  Slick  ; 
he  is  a  considerable  of  a  literary  character.  lie's  well  known 
in  the  great  world  as  the  author  of  the  Historical,  Statistical, 
and  Topographical  account  of  Cuttyhunck,  in  five  volumes ; 
a  work  that  has  raised  the  reputation  of  American  genius 
among  foreign  nations  amazin',  I  assure  you.  He's  »;uite  a 
self-taught  author  too.  I'll  give  you  a  letter  of  introduction  to 
him.  Me,  said  she,  adrawin'  up  her  neck  like  a  swan. 
You  needn't  look  so  scared,  said  I,  marm,  for  he  is  a  mar- 
ried man,  and  has  one  white  wife  and  four  white  children, 
fourteen  black  concu I  wanted  to  hear,  sir,  said  she,  quite 


was  a 


•  'I  (■■ 
I 


SLAVERY. 


57 


red  at  it 
Us  a  bat 
Now, 
ce  Brin- 
ler  folks 
riously, 

fellow- 
ed,  and 

liigh  a 
i:  apart, 
down 
,  hospi. 
nong — 
ilofthe 
ur  con- 
es ;  but 
seed  it 

Now, 
id  she, 
theory, 
3r  facts 
y  draw 
1  think 
s  what 
tvorkrd 
hunted 
!)nglish 
ds  will 
lement 
r  story 

)wn  to 
Slick  ; 
mown 
stical, 
imea ; 
jenius 
Liite  a 
ion  to 
swan, 
mar- 
dren, 
quite 


snappishly,  of  the  negroes,  and  not  of  your  brother  and  his 
domestic  arrangements  Well,  marm,  said  I  i  one  day  there 
was  a  dinner-party  to  Josiah's,  and  he  made  the  same  remark 
you  did,  and  instanced  the  rich  black  marchant  of  Philadel- 
phia, which  positicm  was  contradicted  by  some  other  gentle* 
men  there ;  so  'Siah  offered  to  bet  o^ae  thousand  dollars  ho 
could  produce  ten  black  gentlemen,  who  should  be  allowed,  by 
good  judges,  to  be  more  polished  than  any  like  number  of  whites 
that  could  be  selected  in  the  town  of  Charleston.  Well,  the  bet 
was  taken,  the  money  staked,  and  a  note  made  of  the  tarms* 
Next  day  at  ten  o*clock,  the  time  fixed,  Josiah  had  his  ten 
niggers  nicely  dressed,  paraded  out  in  the  streets  a  facin'  of 
the  sun,  and  brought  his  friends  and  the  umpires  to  decide  the 
bet.  Well,  when  they  got  near  'em,  they  put  their  hands  to 
their  eyes  and  looked  down  to  the  ground,  and  the  tears  rail 
down  their  cheeks  like  any  thing.  Whose  cheeks  ?  said  she ; 
blacks  or  whites  ?  this  is  very  interesting.  Oh,  the  whites,  to 
be  sure,  said  I.  Then,  said  she,  I  will  record  that  mark  of 
feelin'  with  great  pleasure — Pll  let  the  world  know  it.  It  does 
honour  to  their  heads  and  hearts.  But  not  to  their  eyes,  tho', 
said  I ;  they  swore  they  couldn't  see  a  bit.  What  the  devil 
have  you  got  there.  Slick  ?  says  they ;  it  has  put  our  eyes 
out :  damn  them,  how  they  shine !  they  look  like  black  japan- 
ned tea-trays  in  the  sun — it's  blindin' — it's  the  devil,  that's  a 
fact.  Are  you  satisfied  ?  said  'Sy.  Satisfied  of  what !  says 
they ;  satisfied  with  bein'  as  blind  as  buzzards,  eh  7  Satisfied 
of  the  high  polish  niggers  are  capable  of,  said  Josiah :  why 
shouldn't  nigger  hide,  with  lots  of  Day  and  Martin's  blackin* 
on  it,  take  as  good  a  polish  as  cow  hide,  eh  ?  Oh  lord  !  if 
you'd  aheerd  what  a  roar  of  larfler  there  was,  for  all  Charles- 
ton was  there  a'most ;  what  a  hurrain'  and  shoutin' :  it  was 
grand  fun.  I  went  up  and  shook  hands  with  Josiah,  for  I 
always  liked  a  joke  from  a  boy.  Well  done,  'Sy,  says  I ; 
you've  put  the  leake  into  'em  this  hitch  rael  complete;  its 
grand !  But,  says  he,  don't  look  so  pleased,  Sam  ;  they  are 
cussed  vexed,  and  if  we  crow  I'll  have  to  fight  every  one  on 
'em,  that's  sartin,  for  they  are  plaguy  touchy  them  Southern- 
ers ;  fight  for  nothin'  a'most.  But,  Sam,  said  he,  Connecticut 
ain't  a  bad  school  for  a  boy  arter  all,  is  it  ?  I  could  tell  you 
fifty  such  stories,  Miss,  says  I.  She  drew  up  rather  stately 
Thank  you,  sir,  said  she,  that  will  do ;  I  am  not  sure  whether 
it  is  a  joke  of  your  brother's  or  a  hoax  of  your'n,  but  whose 
ever  it  is,  it  has  more  practical  wit  than  feelin'  in  it. 


\ 


.   TIIE  OLOCKMAKER. 

The  truth  is,  said  the  Clockmaker,  nothin'  raises  my  dander 
more,  than  to  hear  English  folks  and  our  Eastern  c'lizens 
atalkin'  about  this  subject  that  they  don't  understand,  and 
have  nothin'  to  do  with.  If  such  critters  will  go  down  South 
a  meddlin*  with  things  that  don't  consarn  'em,  they  desarve 
what  they  catch.  I  don't  mean  to  say  I  approve  of  lynchin', 
because  that's  horrid ;  but  when  a  feller  gets  himself  kicked, 
or  his  nose  pulled,  and  larns  how  the  cowskin  feels,  I  don't 
pity  him  one  morsel.  Our  folks  won't  oear  tamperin'  with, 
as  you  Colonists  do ;  we  won't  stand  no  nonsense.  The  sub- 
ject is  gist  a  complete  snarl ;  it's  all  tangled,  and  twisted,  and 
knotted  so,  old  Nick  himself  wouldn't  onravel  it.  What  with 
private  rights,  public  rights,  and  State  rights,  feelin',  expe* 
diency,  and  public  safety,  it's  a  considerable  of  a  tough  sub- 
ject. The  truth  is,  I  ain't  master  of  it  myself.  I'm  no  book 
man,  I  never  was  to  college,  and  my  time  has  been  mostly 
spent  in  the  clock  trade  and  tooth  business,  and  all  I  know  is 
just  a  littlr  I've  picked  up  by  the  way.  The  tooth  business, 
said  I ;  what  is  that?  do  you  mean  to  say  you  are  a  dentist? 
No,  said  he,  laughftig ;  the  tooth  business  is  pickin'  up  expe- 
rience. Whenever  a  feller  is  considerable  cute  with  us,  we 
say  he  has  cut  his  eye  teeth,  he's  tolerable  sharp ;  and  the 
study  of  this  I  call  the  tooth  business.  Now  I  ain't  able  to 
lay  it  all  down  what  I  think  as  plain  as  brother  Josiah  can, 
but  I  have  an  idea  there's  a  good  deal  in  name,  and  that 
slavery  is  a  word  that  frightens  more  than  it  hurts.  It's  some 
o'  the  branches  or  grafts  of  slavery  that  want  cuttin'  off. 
Take  away  corporal  punishmeril  from  the  masters  and  give  it 
to  the  law,  forbid  separatin'  families  and  the  right  to  compel 
marriage  and  other  connexions,  and  you  leave  slavery  nothin' 
more  than  sarvitude  in  name,  and  somethin'  quite  as  good 
in  lact.       ^  §-;  va;^^«?j',  ■  ;.  Hv' 

Every  critter  must  work  in  this  world,  and  a  labourer  is  a 
slave ;  but  the  labourer  only  geti^nough  to  live  on  from  day 
to  day,  while  the  slave  is  tended  in  infancy,  sickness,  and  old 
age,  and  has  spare  time  enough  given  him  to  aim  a  good  deal 
too.  A  married  woman,  if  you  come  to  that,  is  a  slave,  call 
her  what  you  will,  wife,  woman,  angel,  termegant,  or  devil, 
she's  a  slave;  and  if  she  happens  to  get  the  upper  hand,  the 
husband  is  a  slave,  and  if  he  don't  lead  a  worse  life  than  any 
black  nigger,  when  he's  under  petticoat  government,  then  my 
name  is  not  Sam  Slick.  I'm  no  advocate  of  slavery,  squire, 
nor  are  any  of  our  folks ;  it's  bad  for  the  niggers,  worse  for 


SLAVBRT. 


the  masters,  and  a  cuss  to  any  country ;  kit  we  have  got  it, 
and  the  question  is,  what*are  we  to  do  with  it?  liCt  them  an- 
swer that  know, — I  don*t  pretend  to  be  able  to. 

The  subject  was  a  disagreeable  one,  but  it  was  a  striking 
peculiarity  of  the  Clockmaker's,  that  he  never  dwelt  long 
upon  any  thing  that  was  not  a  subject  of  national  bwjsi ;  he 
therefore  very  dexterously  shifted  both  the  subject  And  the 
scene  of  it  to  England,  su  as  to  furnish  him  with  a  reiort,  of 
which  he  was  at  all  times  exceedingly  fond.  I  have  heerd 
tell,  said  he,  that  you  British  have  'mancipated  your  niggers. 
Yes,  sai8  I,  thank  God  I  slavery  exists  npt  in  the  British  em- 
pire.  Well,  I  take  some  credit  to  myself  for  that,  said  the 
Clockmaker ;  it  was  me  that  sot  that  agoin*  any  way.  You  ! 
said  I,  with  the  most  unfeigned  astonishment ;— you  /  how 
could  yoUf  by  any  possibility  be  instrumental  in  that  great 
national  act?  Well,  Pil  tell  you,  said  he,  tho*  it's  a  consider- 
able  of  a  long  story  too.  When  I  retunied  from  Poland,  via 
London,  in  the  hair  speckelation  of  Jabish  Green,  I  went 
down  to  Sheffield  to  execute  a  commission ;  I  had  to  bribe 
some  master  workmen  to  go  out  to  Anjerica,  and  if  I  didn't 
fix  'em  it's  a  pity.  The  critters  wouldn't  go  at  no  rate,  with- 
out the  most  extravagant  onreasonable  wages,  that  no  busi- 
ness could  afford  no 'how.  Well,  there  was  nothin'  to  be  done 
but  to  agree  to  it ;  but  things  worked  right  in  the  long  run  i 
our  folks  soon  larnt  the  business,  and  then  they  had  to  work 
for  half  nothiii',  or  starve.  It  don't  do  to  drive  too  ^lard  a 
bargain  always. 

When  I  was  down  there  &  gentleman  called  on  nne  one 
arternoon,  one  John  Canter  by  name,  and  says  he,  Mr.  Slick, 
I've  called  to  i^e  you  to  make  some  inquiries  about  America ; 
me  and  my  friends  think  of  emigratin'  there.  Happy,  saya 
I,  to  give  you  any  information  in  my  power,  sir,  and  a  soci- 
able dish  o'  chat  is  what  I  do  like  most  amazin', — it's  kind  o' 
nateral  to  me  talkin'  is.  So  we  sot  down  and  chatted  away 
about  our  great  nation  all  the  arternoon  and  evenin',  and  him 
and  me^ot  as  thick  as  two  thieves  afore  we  parted. — If  you 
will  be  to  home  to-morrow  evenin',  says  he,  I  will  call  again, 
if  you  will  give  me  leave.     Sartin,  says  I,  most  happy. 

Well,  next  evenin'  he  came  ag'in ;  and  in  the  course  of 
talk,  says  he,  I  was  born  a  quaker,  Mr.  Slick.     Plenty  of 'em  - 
with  us,  says  I,  and  well  to  do  in  the  world  too, — cobsiderable 
stiff  folks  in  their  way  them  quakers, — you  can't  ZaO  more 
move  'em  than  a  church  steeple.     I  like  the  quakers,  too,  says 


i 


4 1- 


.-■1^# 


60 


THB  CCOOKMAKER. 


I,  for  there  are  worse  folks  than  them  agoin*  in  the  world  by  a 
long  ohalk.  Well,  lately  I've  dissented  from  *em,  says  he*— 
Curious  that  too,  says  I.  I  v^'.  a  thinkin'  the  beaver  didn't 
shade  the  inner  man  quite  as  much  as  I  have  seed  it :  but, 
says  I,  I  like  dissent ;  it  shows  that  a  man  has  both  a  mind 
and  a  conscience  too ;  if  he  hadn't  a  mind  he  couldn't  dissent, 
and  if  he  hadn't  a  conscience  he  wouldn't ;  a  man,  therefore, 
who  quits  his  church  always  stands  a  notch  higher  with  me 
th'm  a  stupid  obstinate  creature  that  sticks  to  it  ^cause  he  was 
born  ftiid  brought  up  in  it,  and  his  father  belonged  to  it — 
iiiere*G  no  sense  in  thpt.  A  quaker  is  a  very  set  mtn  in  his 
way ;  a  dissenter  therefore  froni  a  quaker  must  be  what  I  call 

a  considerable  of  &. obstinate  man,  says  he,  larf  n'.     No, 

<iy8  I,  not  gist  exactly  that,  but  he  must  carry  a  pretty  tolera- 
Dle  stiff  upper  lip,  tho' — thr.t's  a  fact. 

Well,  says  he,  Mr.  Slick,  this  country  is  an  aristocmtic 
country,  a  very  aristocratic  country  indeed,  and  it  lainf  easy 
for  a  man  to  push  himself  when  he  has  no  great  friends  or 
family  interest ;  besides,  if  a  man  has  some  little  talent—says 
he,  (and  he  squ^zed  his  chin  between  his  fore-finger  and 
thvimb,  as  much  as  to  say,  tho'  I  say  it  that  should'nt  say  it, 
1  have  a  very  i  lerable  share  of  it  at  any  rate,)  he  has  no 
opportunity  of  risin'  by  bringin'  himself  afore  the  public. 
Every  avenue  is  filled.  A  nmn  has  no  chance  to  come  for< 
ware, — money  won't  do  it,  for  that  I  have, — talent  won't  do 
it,  for  the  opportunity  is  wantir.'.  I  believe  I'll  go  to  the 
States,  where  all  men  are  equal,  and  one  has  neither  the 
trouble  of  risin'  nor  the  vexation  of  fallin'.  Then  you'd  like 
to  come  forward  in  public  life  here,  would  you,  said  I.,  if  you 
had  a  chance?  I  would,  say  <  he;  that's  the  truth.  Give  me 
your  hand  then,  si^ys  I,  my  triend,  Tve  got  an  idea  that  wil' 
make  your  fortin.  I'll  put  you  in  a  track  that  vill  make 
a  man  of  you  fivsl,  and  a  nobleman  aflerwards,  as  sere  as 
thou  says  thee.  Walk  into  the  niggers,  s^iys  L  r.nd  they'll 
help  you  to  walk  into  the  whites,  and  they'll  make  you  walk 
into  parliament.  Walk  into  the  niggers !  says  he ;  and  he  sot 
and  stared  like  a  cat  awatchm'  of  a  mouse-hole; — walk  i'lto 
the  niggers ! — what's  that  7  I  don't  onderstand  you. — Tak^ 
up  'niancipation,  says  T,  and  work  it  up  till  it  works  you  tip ; 
call  mee'.in's  and  make  spt^ches  to  'em ; — get  up  societies  'And 
make  i'eports  to  'em; — get  up  petitions  tc  parliament,  un)  get 
signers  to  'em.  Enlist  the  women  on  ycuv  side,  of  all  ages, 
sects,  acd  denominations.     Excite  'em  first  tho',  for  ^oniea 


>«■&- 


f 


8LAVEKT. 


m 


A 


folks  are  poor  tools  till  you  get  'em  up :  but  excite  them,  and 
they'll  go  the  whole  figur,' — wake  up  the  whole  country. 
It's  a  grand  subject  for  it, — broken  hearted  slaves  killin'  them- 
selves in  despair,  or  dyin'  a  lingerin'  death,~~ta8k<'m«8ter't 
whip  acuttin'  into  their  flesh, — burnin'  "ins, — days  o'  toil- 
nights  o'  grief-— pestilential  rice-grounds — chains-*-*starvation 
-^-misery  and  death, — grand  figures  them  for  ora<ry,  and 
make  splendid  speeches,  if  well  put  together. 

Says  you,  such  is  the  spirit  of  British  freedom,  that  the 
moment  a  slave  touches  our  sea-girt  shoresy>  his  spirit  bursts 
its  bonds ;  he  stands  'mancipated,  disenthralled,  and  liberated ; 
his  chains  fall  right  off,  and  he  walks  in  all  the  naked  majesty 
of  a  great  big  black  he  nigger !  It  sounds  Irish  that,  and 
Josiah  used  to  say  they  come  up  to  the  Americans  a'most  in 
pure  eloquence.  It's  grand,  it's  sublime  that,  you  may  depend. 
When  you  get  'em  up  to  the  right  pitch,  says  you,  we  have 
no  power  in  parliament;  we  must  have  abolition  members. 
(.'erlainly,  says  they,  and  who  so  fit  as  the  good,  the  pious, 
the  christian-Iike  John  Canter;  up  you  are  put  then,  and 
bundled  free  gratis,  head  over  heels,  into  parliament.  When 
you  are  in  the  House  o'  Commons,  at  it  ag'in,  blue-jacket,  for 
life.  Some  good  men,  some  weak  men,  and  a  most  a  plaguy 
sight  of  hypocritical  men  will  join  you.  Cant  carries  sway 
always  now.  A  large  party  in  the  House,  and  a  wappin' 
large  party  out  o'  the  house,  must  be  kept  quiet)  conciliated, 
or  whatever  the  right  word  is,  and  John  Canter  is  made  Lord 
Lavender. 

I  see,  I  see,  said  he ;  a  glorious  prospect  of  doin'  good,  of 
aidin'  my  fellow  mortals,  of  bein'  useful  in  my  generation.  I 
hope  for  a  more  imperishable  reward  than  a  coronet, — the 
approbation  of  my  own  conscience.  Well,  well,  says  I  to 
myself,  i^  you  ain't  the  most  impudent  as  well  as  pharisaical 
villain  tttdt  c -er  went  onhung,  then  I  never  seed  a  finished 
rascal, — that's  all.  He  took  my  advice,  and  went  right  at  it, 
tooth  and  nail ;  worked  day  and  night,  and  made  a'most  a 
deuce  of  a  stir.  His  name  was  in  every  paper ; — a  meetin' 
Yi^}A  Vere  to-day,- — that  great  and  good  man  John  Canter  in 
tl  ,e  chair ; — a  meetin'  held  there  to-morrow, — addressed  most 
eloquently  by  that  philanthropist,  philosopher,  apd  Ciiristian, 
John  Canter ; — a  society  formed  in  one  place,  John  Canter 
secretary ; — a  society  formed  in  another  place,  John  Canic^r 
president : — John  Canter  every  where  ; — if  you  went  to  Lon* 
don,  he  handed  you  a  subscription  list, — if  you  went  to  Brigh- 
6 


» * 


iJi  THE  OLOOKMAKER. 

ton,  he  met  you  with  a  petition, — if  you  went  to  Sheflfieldi  he 
filled  your  pockets  with  tracts  ; — he  was  a  complete  jack«o'* 
lantern,  here  and  there,  and  every  where.  The  last  1  heerd 
tell  of  him  was  in  parliament,  and  agoin*  out  governor-general 
of  some  of  the  colonies.  I've  seen  a  good  many  superfine 
saints  in  my  time,  squire,  but  this  critter  was  the  nuMt  upper- 
crust  one  I  ever  seed, — he  did  beat  all. 

Yes,  tlio  Eaglish  desarve  some  credit  no  doubt ;  but  when 
you  substract  electioneerin'  party  spirit,  hippocracy,  ambition, 
ministerial  flourishes,  and  all  the  undertow  causes  that  ope- 
rated in  this  work,  mhich  at  best  was  but  clumsily  contrived, 
and  bunglin'ly  executed,  it  don't  leave  so  much  to  brag  on 
arter  all,  does  it  now  ? 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


^       TALKING  LATIN. 

Do  you  see  them  are  country  galls  there,  said  Mr.  Slick, 
how  they  are  tricked  out  in  silks,  and  touched  oflT  with  lace 
and  ribbon  to  the  nine's,  a  mincin'  along  with  parasols  in  their 
hands,  as  if  they  were  afear'd  the  sun  would  melt  them  like 
wax,  or  take  the  colour  out  of  their  face,  like  a  printed  cotton 
blind  ?  Well,  that^s  gist  the  ruin  of  this  country.  It  ain't 
poverty,  the  blue  noses  have  to  fear,  for  that  they  needn't 
*  know  without  they  choose  to  lake  acquaintance  with  it ;  but 
it's  gentility.  They  go  the  wnole  hog  in  this  country,  you 
may  depend.  They  ain't  content  to  appear  what  ihey  h'>,  but 
want  to  be  what  they  ain't ;  they  live  too  extravagant,  and 
dress  too  extravagant,  and  won't  do  what's  the  only  thing  that 
will  supply  this  extravagance :  that  is,  be  industrious.  Gist 
go  into  one  of  the  meetin'  houses,  back  here  in  the  woods, 
where  there  ought  to  be  nothin'  but  homespun  cloth,  and  home- 
marle  stufis  and  bonnets,  and  see  the  leghorns  and  pelmettors, 
and  silks  and  shalleys,  morenos,  gauzes,  and  blonds,  assem- 
bled there,  enough  to  buy  the  best  farm  in  the  settlen^ent. 
There's  somethin' . not  altogether  gist  right  in  this;  and  the 
worst  of  these  habits  is,  thev  'uinate  the  youn^g  folks,  and 
they  grow  up  as  big  goneys  as  the  old  one'iii,  akvi  eend  in  the 
onmo  wnv  Kv  i^in' half-starved  at  last ;  there's  a  false  pi'ide, 


same  way,  by  bein 

false  feelin*,  and  false  edication 


here.    I  mind  once*  I  was 


z.^  '•. 


TALKIVO   LATIir. 


08 


lid,  ho 

i  heerd 
general 
iperfine 
upper. 


you 


down  this  way  to  Canaan,  a  vendin'  o*  my  clocks,  and  who 
should  h  overtake  but  Nabal  Qreen,  apokin*  along  in  his 
wagon,  half-loaded  with  notions  from  the  retail  shops,  at  the 
cross  roads.  Why,  Nabal,  said  I,  are  you  agoin*  to  set  up  for 
a  merchant,  for  I  see  youVe  got  a  considerable  of  an  asaort- 
ment  of  ffoods  there  ?  youVe  got  enough  o*  them  to  make  a 
tt?dlar*s  fortin  almost.    Who's  dead,  and  what's  to  pay  now  7 

Why,  friend  Slick,  said  he,  how  do  you  do?  who*d  a 
thought  o'  seein  you  hero  ?  You  see  my  old  lady,  said  he, 
is  asoin'  for  to  sive  our  Arabella,  that's  gist  returned  from 
bordin'  school  to  Halifax,  a  let  off  to  night.  Most  all  the  bet- 
termost  folks  in  these  parts  are  axed,  and  the  doctor,  the  law- 
yer, and  the  minister  is  invited ;  it's  no  skim-milk  story,  I  do 
assure  you,  but  upper  crust,  real  jam.  Ruth  intends  to  do  the 
thing  handsome.  She  says  she  don't  do  it  often,  but  when  she 
does,  she  likes  to  go  the  whole  figur',  and  do  it  genteel.  If 
she  hasn't  a  show  of  dough-nuts  and  prasarves,  and  apple 
sarse  and  punkin  pies  and  sarsages,  it's  a  pity ;  it's  taken  all 
hands  of  us,  the  old  lady  and  her  galls  too,  besides  the  helps, 
the  best  part  of  a  week  past  preparin'.  I  say  nothin',  but  it's 
most  turned  the  house  inside  out,  a  settin'  up  things  in  this 
room,  or  toatin'  'em  out  of  that  into  t'other,  and  all  in  such  a 
conflustrigation,  that  I'm  glad  when  they  send  me  of  an  arrand 
to  be  out  of  the  way.  It's  lucky  them  harrycones  don't  come 
every  day,  for  they  do  scatter  things  about  at  a  great  rate,  all 
topsy-turvey  like, — that's  sartin.  Won't  you  call  in  and  see 
us  to  night,  Mr.  Slick  ?  folks  vvill  be  amazm'  glad  to  see  you, 
and  I'll  show  you  some  as  pritty  lookin'  galls  to  my  mind,  in 
our  settlement  here,  as  you'll  see  in  Connecticut,  I  know. 
Well,  says  I,  I  don't  care  if  I  do ;  there's  nothin'  I  like  more 
nor  a  frolic,  and  the  doar  little  critters  I  do  like  to  be  among 
'em  too, — that's  sartin. 

In  the  evenin'  I  drives  over  to  Nabal's,  and  arter  puttin' 
up  my  beast,  Old  Clay,  I  goes  into  the  house,  and  sure  enough, 
there  they  was  as  big  as  life.  The  young  ladies  asittin'  on 
one  side,  and  the  men  a  standin'  up  by  the  door,  and  chatter- 
in'  away  in  great  good  humour.  There  was  a  young  chap  a 
holdin'  forth  to  the  men  about  politics ;  he  was  a  young  trader, 
set  up  by  some  merchant  in  Halifax,  to  ruinate  the  settlement 
with  good-for-nothin'  trumpery  they  hadn't  no  occasion  for,— 
cliock  full  of  concait  and  affectation,  and  beginnin'  to  feel  his 
way  with  the  yard-stick  to  assembly  already. 

Great  dandy  was  Mr.  Bobbin  j  he  looked  gist ,as  jf  b^  l)|id 


mM 


\ 


•ir  THl  OLOOKMAKER. 

came  out  of  the  tailor's  hands,  spic  and  span ;  put  out  his  lipa 
and  drew  down  his  brow,  as  if  he  had  a  trick  o  thinkin  some- 
times—nodded  his  head  and  winked,  as  if  ho  knew  more  than 
UeM  like  to  tell-— talked  of  talent  lyuite  glib,  but  disdainful,  as 
if  he  would'nt  tovch  some  folks  with  a  pair  of  tongs ;  a  great 
scholar  too  was  Mr.  Bobbin,  always  spoke  dictionary,  and 
used  heavy  artillery  words.  I  donH  entertain  no  ma<'ner  of 
doubt  if  government  ^ould  take  him  at  his  own  valuatioi^ 
he*d  be  found  to  be  a  man  o*  great  worth.  I  never  liked  the 
critter,  and  always  gave  him  a  poke  when  I  got  a  chance.  He 
was  a  town  meetin'  orator ;  grand  school  that  to  larn  public 
speakin',  squire ;  a  nice  muddy  pool  for  young  ducks  to  lorn 
to  swim  in.  He  was  a  grand  hand  to  read  lectures,  in  black- 
smiths' shops,  at  vandues,  and  the  like,  and  talked  politics  over 
his  counter  at  a  great  size.  He  looked  big  and  talked  big, 
and  altogether  was  a  considerable  big  man  in  his  own  concait. 
He  dealt  in  reform.  He  had  ballot  ta^a,  suffrage  ribbon,  radi- 
cal lace,  no  tithe  hats,  and  beautiful  pipes  with  a  democrat's 
head  on  'em,  and  the  maxim,  "  No  sinecure,"  under  it.  Every 
thing  had  its  motto^  No,  sir,  said  he,  to  some  one  he  was  a 
talkin*  to  as  I  came  in,  this  country  is  attenuated  to  pulveriza- 
tion by  its  aristocracy — a  proud  haughty  aristocracy ;  a  cor* 
rupt,  a  lignious,  and  a  Inpidinous  aristocracy  ;  put  them  into  a 
parcel,  envelope  'em  with  a  panoply  of  paper,  tie  them  up  and 
put  them  into  the  scales,  and  they  will  be  found  wantin'. 
There  is  not  a  pound  of  honesty  amon^  'em,  nay  not  an 
ounce,  nay  not  a  penny  weight.  The  article  is  wanting — it 
is  not  in  their  catalogue.  The  word  never  occurs  either  in 
their  order,  or  in  their  invoice.  They  wont  bear  the  inspec- 
tion,— thfey  are  not  marchantable, — ^nothin'  but  refuse. 

If  there  is  no  honesty  in  the  market,  says  I,  why  don't  you 
import  some,  and  retail  it  out  ?  you  might  make  some  con- 
siderable profit  on  it,  and  do  good  to  the  country  too ;  it  would 
be  quite  patriotic  that.  I'm  glad  to  see,  says  I,  one  honcst^ 
man  talkin'  politics  any  how,  for  there's  one  thing  I've  obsarved 
in  the  course  of  my  experience,  whenever  a  man  suspects  all 
the  world  that's  above  him,  of  roguery,  he  must  be  a  pretty 
considerable  superfine  darned — (rogue  himself,  whispered 
some  critter  standin'  by,  loud  enough  for  all  on  'em  to  hear, 
and  to  set  the  whole  party  achokin'  with  larfler) — judge  of 
the  article  himself,  says  I.  Now,  says  I,  if  you  do  import 
it,  gist  let  us  know  how  you  soli  it, — by  the  yard,  the  quart, 
or  the  pound,  will  you  ?  for  it  ain't  set  down  in  any  tradin'  tables 


TALKIIfO  LATIir. 


00 


IVe  seen,  whether  it  is  for  long  measure,  dry  measure,  or 
weight. 

Well,  says  he,  atryin*  to  larf,  as  if  he  didnH  take  the  hint, 
ril  let  you  know,  for  it  might  be  some  use  to  you  perhaps,  in 
the  clock  trade.  May  be,  you'll  be  a  customer,  ae  well  as  the 
aristocrats.  But  how  is  clocks  now?  said  he,  and  he  gave 
his  neighbour  a  nudge  with  his  elbow,  as  much  as  to  say, 
I  guess  it's  my  turn  now, — how  do  clocks  go?  Like  soma 
voung  country  traders  I've  seen  in  my  time,  says  I ;  don't  g^ 
long  afore  they  are  nm  down,  and  have  to  be  wound  up  again. 
They  are  considerable  better  too,  like  them,  for  bein'  kept  in 
their  own  place,  and  plaguy  apt  to  go  wrong  when  moved  out 
of  it.  Thinks  I  to  myself,  take  your  change  out  o'  that, 
young  man,  will  you  ?  for  I'd  heerd  tell  the  goney  had  said 
they  had  cheats  enough  in  Nova  Scotia,  without  havin'  Yankee 
ciockmakers  to  put  new  wrinkles  on  their  horns.  Why,  you 
are  quite  witty  this  evenin',  said  he ;  you've  been  mastieatin* 
mustard,  I  apprehend  ;  I  was  always  fond  of  it  from  a  boy, 
said  I,  and  it's  a  pity  the  blue  noses  didn't  chew  a  little  more 
of  it,  I  tell  you ;  it  would  help  'em,  p'raps,  to  disjgest  their  jokes 
better,  I  estimate.  Why,  I  didn't  mean  no  omnce,  said  he, 
I  do  assure  you.  Nor  I  neither,  said  I ;  I  hope  you  didn't 
take  it  any  way  parsonal. 

; :  Says  I,  friend  Bobbin,  you  have  talked  a  considerable  hard 
o^  mo  afore  now,  and  made  out  the  Yankees,  most  as  big 
rogues  as  your  great  men  be  ;  but  I  never  thought  any  thing 
hard  of  it :  I  only  said,  says  I,  he  puts  me  in  mind  of  Mrs. 
Squire  Ichabod  Birch.  What's  that  ?  says  the  folks.  Why, 
says  I,  Marm  Birch  was  acomin'  dowti  stairs  one  mornin' 
airly,  and  what  should  she  see  but  the  stable-help  akisau^of 
the  cook  in  the  comer  of  the  entry,  and  she  afendin'  oHil|k||^ 
a  brave  one.  You  good-for-nothin'  hussy,  said  Marm  BirchT 
get  out  of  my  house  this  minit :  I  won't  have  no  suc1i*onde- 
cent  carryin  s  on  here,  on  no  account.  You  horrid  critter, 
get  out  o'  my  sight ;  and  as  for  you,  said  she  to  the  Irishman, 
don't  you  never  dare  to  show  your  ugly  face  here  agin.  I 
wonder  you  ain't  ashamed  of  yourselves, — both  on  ydu 
begone ;  away  with  you,  bag  and  baggage  ! 

Hullo !  says  the  squire,  as  he  follerd  down  in  his  dressin' 
gownd  and  slippers ;  hullo  I  says  he,  what's  all  this  touss 
about?  Nothin',  says  Pat,  as^atchin'  of  his  head,  nothin', 
your  honour,— only  the  mistress  says  she'll  have  no  kissin'  in 
the  house,  but  what  she  does  herself.  The  cook  had  my  jack- 
6* 


1i>' 


iHlM 


\ 


66 


THB  CLOhCKMAKER. 


knife  in  her  piMjlict,  your  honour,  and  wouldn't  give  it  to  mo, 
but  sot  off  and  ran  here  with  it,  and  I  arter  her,  and  caught 
her.  I  gi:  put  my  haiad  in  her  pocket  promiscuously  to  sarch 
for  it, — and  when  I  found  it  I  was  tryin'  to  kiss  her  by  way 
of  forfeit  like,  artd  that's  the  long  and  short  o'  the  matter. 
The  mistress  says  she'll  let  no  one  but  herself  in  the  house  do 
thai  same.  Tut, — tut, — tut!  says  the  squire,  and  larfcd 
riglit  out ;  both  on  you  go  and  attend  to  your  work  then,  and 
jet's  hear  no  more  about  it.  Nom',  you  are  like  Marm  Birch, 
Triend  Bobbin,  says  ! — you  think  nobody  has  a  right  to  be 
hcnest  but  yourself;  but  there  is  more  o'  that  arter  all  agoin' 
in  the  world,  than  you  ha/e  any  notion  of,  I  tell  you. 

Feelin'  a  hand  on  my  arm,  I  turns  round,  and  who  should 
I  see  but  Marm  Green.  Dear  me,  said  she,  is  that  you,  Mr. 
Slick  ?  I've  been  looking'  all  abc;:t  for  you  for  ever  so  long. 
How  do  you  do? — I  hope  I  see  you  quite  well.  Hearty  as 
brandy,  marm,  says  I,  tho'  not  quite  as  strong,  and  a  great 
deal  heartier  for  a  seein'  of  you.  How  be  you  ?  Reasonable 
well,  and  stirrin',  says  she :  I  try  to  keep  amovin' ;  but  I  shall 
give  the  charge  of  things  soon  to  Arabella :  have  you  seen 
her  yet  ?  No,  says  I,  I  havn't  had  the  pleasure  since  her 
return  :  but  I  hear  folks  say  she  is  a'most  splendid  fine  gall. 
Well,  come,  then,  said  she,  atakin'  o'  my  arm,  let  me  intro- 
duce you  to  her.  She  is  a  fine  gall,  Mr.  Slick,  that's  a  fact ; 
and  tho'  I  say  it  that  shouldn't  say  it,  she's  a  considerable 

■  of  an  accomplished  gall  too.  There  is  no  touch  to  Ijer  in 
these  parts :  minister  s  daughter  that  v/as  all  ore  winter  to  St. 
John  can't  hold  a  caudle  to  her.  Can't  she,  tho'  ?  said  I.  No, 
said  she,  that  ohe  can't,  Ihe  consaited  minx,  tho'  she  does  carry 
her  head  so  high.  One  of  the  gentlemen  that  played  at  the 
,jboi^  of  the  wild  btjasts  said  to  me,  says  he,  I'll  tell  you  what 
it  is,  Jilarm  Green,  said  he,  your  daughter  has  a  beautiful 
touch — that's  a  fact ;  most  galls  can  play  a  little,  but  yours  does 
the  thing  complete.  And  so  she  ought,  savs  she,  takin'  her 
five  quarters  into  view.  Five  quarters !  said  I ;  well,  if  that 
don't  beat  all !  well,  I  never  heerd  tell  of  a  gall  bavin'  five 

;  quarters  afore  since  I  was  raised  !  The  skin,  said  I,  I  must 
say,  is  a  most  beau*iful  one ;  but  as  for  the  tallow,  who  ever 
heard  of  a  gall's  tallbv/  ? 

The  fifth  quarter ! — Oh  Lord !  said  I,  marm,  you'll  kill 

^  me, — and  I  haw  hawed  right  out.  Why,  Mr.  Slick,  says  she, 
ain't  you  ashamed?  do,  for  gracious  sake,  behave  yourself;  I 
meant  five  quarters'  schoolin' :  what  a  droll  man   yru  be. 


y^(P 


..$' 


\t  to  me, 

caught 
Jo  sarch 
|by  way 

"  matter. 

)use  do 

larfed 

2n,  and 

Birch, 

It  to  be 

agoin* 


TALKING   LATIir..«  97 

Oh !  five  quarters'  schoolin' !  says  I ;  now  I  understand.  And, 
said  she,  if  sho  don't  paint  it's  a  pity  ?  Paint  I  said  I ;  why, 
you  don't  say  so !  I  thought  that  are  beautiful  colour  was  all 
nateral.  Well,  I  never  could  kiss  a  gall  th'it  painted.  Mother 
used  to  say  it  was  sailin'  under  false  colou/s — I  'most  wonder 
you'could  allow  her  to  paint,  for  I'm  sure  there  ain't  the  least 
morsel  of  occasion  for  it  in  the  world  :  you  may  say  that — it 
is  a  pity  !  Get  out,  said  she,  you  imperance ;  you  know'd 
better  nor  that ;  I  meant  her  pictures.  Oh  !  her  pictures,  said 
I ;  now  I  see ;-— does  she,  tho'  ?  Well,  that  is  an  accomplisIiP 
mcnt  you  dop't  oflen  see,  I  tell  you. — Let  her  alone  for  that, 
said  her  mother.  Here,  Arabella,  dear,  said  she,  come  here 
dear,  and  bring  Mr.  Slick  your  pictur'  of  the  river  that's  got 
the  two  vessels  in  it,— Captain  Noah  Oak's  sloop,  and  Peter 
Zinck's  schooner.  Why,  my  sakes,  mamma,  said  Miss 
Arabella,  with  a  toss  of  her  pretty  little  saucy  mug,  do  you^. 
expect  me  to  show  that  to  Mr.  Slick?  why,  he'll  only  larf  at 
it, — he  lai'fs  at  every  thing  that  ain't  Yankee.  Larfj  said  I, 
now  do  tell :  I  guess  I'd  be  very  sorry  to  do  such  an  ongenteet 
thing,  to  any  one, — much  less.  Miss,  to  a  young  lady  like  you. 
No  indeed,  not  I.  Yes,  said  her  mother ;  do,  Bella,  dear ; 
Mr.  Slick  will  excuse  any  little  defects,  I'm  sure ;  she's  had 
only  five  quarters  you  know,  and  you'll  make  allowances, 
won't  you,  Mr.  Slick  ?  I  dare  say,  I  said,  they  don't  stand  in 
need  of  no  allowances^  at  all,  so  don't  be  so  backward,  my 
dear^  Arter  a  good  deal  of  mock  modesty,  out  skips  Miss 
Arabella,  and  returns  with  a  great  large  water  colour  drawin' 
as  big  as  a  winder-shutter,  and  carried  it  up  £ifore  her  face  as 
a  hookin'  cow  does  a  board  over  her  eyes  to  keep  her  from 
makin'  right  at  you.  Now,  said  her  mother,  lookin'  as  pleased 
as  a  peacock  when  it's  in  full  fig  with  its  head  and  tail  up, 
now,  says  she,  Mr.  Slick,  you  are  a  considerable  judge  of 
paintin' — seein'  that  you  do  bronzin'  end  gildin'  so  beautiful— 
now  don't  you  call  that  splendid  ?  Splendid  I  says  I ;  I  guess 
there  ain't  the  beat  of  it  to  be  found  in  this  country,  any 
how ;  I  never  seed  any  thing  like  it :  you  couldn't  ditto  it  in 
the  province  I  know.  I  guess  not,  said  her  mother,  nor  in 
the  next  province  neither.  It  sartainly  beats  all,  said  I.  And 
so  it  did,  Squire ;  you'd  adied  if  you'd  aseed  ft,  for  larfin. 
There  was  two  vessels  one  right  above  t'other,  a  great  big 
black  cloud  on  the  top,  and  a  church-steeple  standin'  under 
the  bottom  of  the  schooner.  Well,  says  I,  that  is  beautiful— 
that's  a  fact ;  but  the  water,  said  I,  miss ;  you  havn't  done 


I 


m<m 


68 


THE   OLOCKMAKBR. 


that  yet ;  when  you  put  that  in,  it  will  bo  complete.  Not  vet, 
said  she ;  the  greatest  difficulty  I  have  in  paintin'  is  in  makin* 
water.  Have  you  tho'  ?  said  I ;  well  that  is  a  pity.  Yes, 
said  she,  it's  the  hardest  thing  in  natur' — I  cant  do  it  straight, 
nor  make  it  look'  of  the  right  colour ;  and  Mr.  Acre,  our  mas- 
ter, said  you  must  always  make  water  in  straight  lines  in  , 
painting,  or  it  ain't  nateral  and  ainH  pleasin' :  vessels  too  are 
considerable  hard ;  if  you  make  them  straight  up  and  down 
they  look  stiff  and  ongraceful  like,  and  if  you  put  them  onder 
sail  then  you  should  know  all  about  fixin'  the  sails  the  right 
way  for  the  wind — if  you  don't,  it's  blundersome.  I'm  terri- 
bly troubled  jvith  the  effect, of  wind.  Oh!  says  I.  Yes,  I 
am,  said  she,  and  if  I  could  only  manage  wind  and  water  in 
paintin'  landscapes,  why  it  would  be  nothin' — I'd  do  'em  in  a 
jiffey ;  but  to  produce  the  right  effect  these  things  take  a  great 
deal  of  practice.  I  thought  I  should  have  snorted  right  out  to 
hear  the  little  critter  run  on  with  such  a  regular  bam.  Oh 
dear !  said  I  to  myself,  what  pains  some  folks  do  take  to 
make  fools  of  their  children  :  lire's  as  nice  a  little  heifer  as 
over  was,  alettin'  of  her  clapper  run  away  with  her  like  an 
onruly  horse  ;  she  don't  know  where  it  will  takp  her  to  yet, 
no  more  than  the  man  in  the  moon.      ;v*i^>V;>i!'^vv  >^^ 

As  she  carried  it  out  again,  her  mother  said.  Now,  I  take 
some  credit  to  myself,  Mr.  Slick,  for  that ; — she  is  throwed 
away  here ;  but  I  was  detarmined  to  have  her  educated,  and  ' 
so  I  sent  her  to  bordin'  school,  and  you  see  the  effect  of  her 
five  quarters.  Afore  she  went,  she  was  three  years  to  the 
combined  school  in  this  district,  that  includes  both  Dalhousie  \ 
and  Sherbrooke :  you  have  combined  schools  in  the  States, 
hav'n't  you,  Mr.  Slick  ?  I  guess  we  have,  said  I ;  boys  and 
galls  combined ;  I  was  to  one  on  'em,  when  I  was  consider- 
able well  grown  up :  Lord,  what  fun  we  had  !  It's  a  grand 
place  to  lam  the  multiplication  table  at,  ain't  it  ?  I  recollect 
once, — Oh  fie !  Mr.  Slick,  I  mean  a  siminary  for  young  gen- 
tlemen and  ladies  where  they  lam  Latin  and  English  com- 
bined. Oh  latten !  said  I ;  they  lam  latten  ther  do  they  ? 
Well,  come,  there  is  some  sense  in  that ;  I  didn't  know  there 
was  a  factory  of  it  in  all  Nova  Scotia.  I  know  how  to  make 
latten ;  father  sent  me  clean  away  to  New  York  to  lam  it. 
You  mix  up  calamine  and  copper,  and  it  makes  a  brass  as 
near  like  gold  as  one  pea  is  like  another ;  and  then  there  is 
another  kind  o'  latten  workin'  tin  over  iron,-;-it  makes  a  most 
complete  imitation  of  silver.     Oii  I  a  knowledge  of  latten  has 


been 

pend. 

metall 

w( 

Gree) 
they 

Whal 


■■:-y 


TALKING  LATIN. 


or 


been  of  great  sarvice  to  me  in  the  clock  trade,  you  may  de- 
pend. It  has  helped  me  to  a  nation  sight  of  the  genuiotfie 
metals, — that's  a  fact. 

i^  Why,  what  on  airth  are  you  atalkinV  about?  said  Mrs. 
Gree. ..  I  don't  mean  that  latten  at  all ;  I  mean  the  Latin 
they  larn  at  schools.  Well,  I  don't  know,  said  I ;  I  never 
seed  any  other  kind  o'  latten,  nor  ever  beerd  tell  of  any. 

What  is  it  1    Why,  it's  a it's  a .    Oh,  you  know  well 

enough,  said  she ;  only  you  make  as  if  you  didn't,  to  poke 
fun  at  me.  I  believe,  on  my  soul,  you've  been  abammin'  of 
me  'the  whole  blessed  time.  I  hope  I  be  shot  if  I  do,  said 
I ;  so  do  tell  me  what  it  is.  Is  it  any  thing  in  the  silk  factory 
line,  or  the  straw-plat,  or  the  cotton  warp  way  ?  Your  head, 
said  she,  considerable  miffy,  is  always  a  runnin'  on  a  factory. 

Latin  is  a .     Nabal,  said  she,  do  tell  me  what  Latin  is. 

Latin,  says  he, — why,   Latin  is ahem,  it',^ what 

they  teach  at  the  Combined  School.  Well,  says  she,  we  all 
know  that  as  well  as  you  do,  Mr.  Wisehead ;  but  what  is  it  7 
Come  here,  Arabella  dear,  and  tell  me  what  Latin  is  ?  Why, 
Latin,  ma,  said  Arabella,  is, — am-o,  I  love ;  am«at,  he  loves ; 
am-amus,  we  love ; — that's  Latin.  Well,  it  does  sound  dread- 
ful pretty,  tho',  don't  it  ?  says  I ;  and  yet,  if  Latin  is  love  and 
love  is  Latin,  you  hadn't  no  occasion, — and  I  got  up,  and  slipt 
my  hand  into  hers — you  hadn'f  no  occasion  to  go  to  the  Com* 
bined  School  to  larn  it ;  for  natur',  says  I,  teaches  that  a 
and  I  was  whtsperin'  of  the  rest  o'  the  sentence  in  her  ear, 
when  her  mother  said, — Oome,  come,  Mr.  Slick,  what's  that 
you  are  asaying  of?  Talkin'  Latin,  says  I, — awinkin'  to 
Arabella ; — ain't  we,  miss  ?  Oh  yes,  said  she, — returnin'  the 
squeeze  of  my  hand  and  larfin' ; — oh  yes,  mother,  arter  all 
he  understands  it  complete.  Then  take  my  seat  here,  says 
the  old  lady,  and  l>oth  on  you  sit  down  and  talk  it,  for  it  will 
be  a  good  practice  for  you  ; — and  away  she  sailed  to  the  cend 
of  the  room,  and  left  us  a — talking  Latin. 
i  I  hadn't  been  asittin'  there  long  afore  doctor  Ivory  Hovey 
came  up,  asmirkin',  and  asmilin',  and  arubbin'  of  his  hands, 
as  if  he  was  agoin'  to  say  somethin'  very  witty ;  and  I  ob- 
served, the  moment  he  came,  Arabella  took  herself  off.  She 
said,  she  couldn't  'bide  him  at  all.  Well,  Mr.  Slick,  said  he, 
how  are  you  ?  how  do  you  do,  upon  an  average,  eh  ?  Pray, 
what's  your  opinion  of  matters  and  things  in  general,  eh  ? 
Do  you  think  you  could  exhibit  such  a  show  of  fine  bloomin' 
galls  in  SUckville,  eh  ?    Not  a  bad  chance  for  vou^  I^e«— 


y    r 


III mwammmimdim 


\ 


to 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


(and  he  gave  that  word  guess  a  twang  that  made  the  fdlks 
larf  all  round,) — said  he,  for  you  to  speckilate  for  a  wife,  eh  ? 
Well,  says  I,  there  is  a  pretty  show  o'  galls, — that^s  oartain, 
—but  they  wouldn't  condescend  to  the  like  o'  me.  I  was 
athinkin'  there  was  some  on  'em  that  would  gist  suit  you  to  a 
T.  iMIc,  says  he,  adrawin'  of  himself  up  and  looking  big, — 
me  /  and  he  turned  up  his  nose  like  a  pointer  dog  when  the 
birds  flowed  off.  When  /  honour  a  lady  with  the  offer  of  my 
hand,  says  he,  it  toill  be  a  lady.  Well,  thinks  I,  if  you  ain't 
a  consaited  critter  it's  a  pity ;  most  on  'em  are  a  plaguy  sight 
too  good  for  you,  so  I  will  gist  pay  you  off  in  your  own  coin. 
Says  I,  you  put  me  in  mind  of  Lawyer  Endicot's  dog.  What's 
that?  says  the  folks  acrowdin'  round  to  hear  it,  for  I  seed 
plain  enough  that  hot  one  on  'em  liked  him  one  morsel.  Says 
1,  he  had  a  great  big  black  dog  that  he  used  to  carry  about 
with  him  every  where  he  went,  into  the  churchfes  and  into  the 
court.  The  dog  was  always  abotherin'  of  the  judges,  agettin' 
between  their  legs,  and  they  used  to  order  him  to  bo  turned 
out  every  day,  and  they  always  told  the  lawyer  to  keep  his 
dog  to  home.  At  last,  old  JiHge  Person  said  to  the  constable 
one  day,  in  a  voice  of  thunder,  Turn  out  that  dog !  and  the 
judge  gave  him  a  kick  that  sent  him  half-way  across  the 
room,  yelpin'  and  howlin'  like  ariy  thing.  The  lawyer  was 
properly  vexed  at  this ;  so  says  h  ?.  to  the  dog,  Pompey,  says 
he,  come  here !  and  the  dog  came  up  to  him.  Didn't  I  always 
tell  you,  said  he,  to  keep  out  o'  bad  company  ?  Take  that, 
said  he,  agivin'  of  him  a'most  an  awful  kick, — take  that ! — 
and  the  next  time  only  go  among  gentlemen ;  and  away  went 
the  dog,  lookin'  foolish  enough,  you  may  depend.  What  do 
you  mean  by  that  are  story,  sir  ?  said  he,  abristlin'  up  like  a 
mastiff.  Nothin',  says  I ;  only  that  a  puppy  sometimes  gets 
into  company  that's  too  good  for  him,  by  mistake ;  and,  if  he 
forgets  himself,  is  plaguy  apt  to  get  bundled  out  faster  than  he 
came  in ;  and  I  got  up  and  walked  ofway  to  the  other  side. 

Folks  gave  him  the  nickname  of  Endicot's  dog  arter  that, 
and  i  was  glad  on  it ;  it  sarved  him  right,  the  consaited  ass. 
I  heerd  the  critter  amutterin'  sun'thin'  of  the  Clockmaker 
illustratin'  his  own  case,  but,  as  I  didn't  want  to  be  parsonal, 
I  made  as  if  I  didn't  hear  him.  As  I  went  over  towards  the 
side  table,  who  should  I  see  aleanin'  up  against  it  but  Mr. 
Bobbin,  pretty  considerably  well  shaved,  with  a  glass  o'  grog 
in  his  hand,  alookin'  as  cross  as  you  please,  and  so  far  gone, 
he  was  athinkin'  aloud,  and  atalkin'  to  himself.  There  comes 


.■lirALSatlQ   LATIV. 


71 


e  folks 
ife,  eh  ? 
sartain, 
I  was 
ou  to  a 
big,— 
■ten  the 
of  my 
)u  ain't 
y  sight 
n  coin. 


natur*," — ameanln' 


**8ofl  sawder,"  says  he,  and  "human 
me, — a  Yankee  broom, — wooden  nutmegs, — cussed  sarcy,— 
great  mind  to  kick  him.  Arabella's  got  her  head  turned, — 
coBsaited  minx; — good  exterior,  but  nothin'  in  her, — like 
Slick's  clocks,  all  gilded  and  varnished  outside,  and  soil  wood 
within.  Gist  do  for  Ivory  Hovey, — same  breed, — big  head, 
— long  ears, — a  pair  of  donkeys  I  Shy  old  cock,  that  dea- 
con,— joins  Temperance  Societies  to  get  popular, — slips  the 
gin  in,  pretends  it's  water  ,* — I  see  him.  But  here  goes,  I  be- 
lieve I'll  slip  off.  Thinks  I,  it's  gettin'  on  for  mornin';  I'll 
slip  off  too ;  so  out  I  goes  and  harnesses  up  Old  Clay,  and 
drives  home. 

Gist  as  I  came  from  the  barn  and  got  opposite  to  the  house, 
I  heerd  some  one  acrackin'  of  his  whip,  and  abawlin'  out  at  a 
great  size,  and  I  looked  up,  and  who  should  I  see  but  Bobbin 
in  his  wagon  agMn  the  pole  fence.  Comin'  in  the  air  had 
made  him  blind  drunk.  He  was  alickin'  away  at  the  top  pole 
of  the  fence,  and  afancying  his  horse  was  there,  and  wouldn't 
go. — Who  comes  there  1  said  he.  Clockmaker,  said  I.  Gist 
take  my  horse  by  the  head, — thfU's  a  good  feller, — will  you  ? 
said  he,  and  lead  him  out  as  far  as  the  road.  Cuss  him,  he 
won't  stir.  Spiles  a  good  horse  to  lead  him,  says  I ;  h|^l- 
ways  looks  for  it  again.  Gist  you  lay  it  on  to  him  weu, — 
his  hams  ain't  made  o'  hickory  like  mine.  Cut  away  at  him ; 
he'll  go  by  and  by  ; — and  I  drove  away  and  left  him  acuttin' 
and  aslashin'  at  the  fence  for  dear  life.  Thinks  I,  you  are 
not  the  first  ass  that  has  been  brought  to  a  poll,  any  how. 

Next  day,  I  met  Nabal.  Well,  said  he,  Mr.  Slick,  you  hit 
your  young  trader  rather  hard  last  night ;  but  I  warn't  sorry 
to  hear  you,  tho',  for  the  critter  is  so  ftiU  of  consaity  it  will  do 
him  good.  He  wants  to  pull  every  one  down  to  his  own  level, 
as  he  can't  rise  to  theirs,  and  is  for  everlastin'ly  spoutin  about 
^ouse  of  Assembly  business,  officials,  aristocrats,  and  such 
stuff;  he'd  be  a  plaguy  sight  better,  in  my  mind,  attendin'  to 
his  own  business,  inste'id  of  talkin'  of  other  folks' ;  and  usin' 
his  yardstick  moro,  and  his  tongue  less.  And  between  you 
and  me,  Mr.  Slick,  said  he, — tho'  I  hope  you  won't  let  on  to 
any  one  that  I  said  any  thing  to  you  about  it — but  atween 
ourselves,  as  we  are  alone  here,  I  am  athinkin'  my  old  woman 
is  in  a  fair  way  to  turn  Arabella's  head  too.  All  this  paintin', 
and  singin',  and  talkin'  Latin,  is  very  well,  I  consait,  for  them 
who  have  time  for  it,  and  nothin'  better  to  do  to  home.  It's 
better  p'r'aps  to  be  adoin'  of  that  than  adoin'  of  nothin' ;  but 


iMtJaMJiiMMMHil  t 


\ 


n 


THE  OLOOKMAKER. 


for  the  like  o*  U),  who  have  to  live  by  farmin*,  and  keep  A 
considerable  of  a  large  dairy,  and  upwards  of  a  hundred 
sheep,  it  does  seem  to  me  sometimes  as  if  it  were  a  little  out 
of  place.  Be  candid  now,  said  he,  for  I  should  like  to  hear 
whnt  your  rael  \ienutntie  (pinion  is  touchin'  this  matter,  seein' 
that  ydu  know  a  good  deal  of  the  world. 
>  Why,  friend  Nabal,  says  I,  as  youVe  asked  my  advice,  Pll 
give  it  to  you ;  tho*  any  thin*  partainin'  to  the  apron^string  is 
v/hat  I  don't  call  myself  a  judge  of,  and  feel  delicate  of  med- 
dlin*  with*  Woman  is  woman,  says  I ;  that's  a  fact ;  and  a 
feller  that  will  go  for  to  provoke  hornets,  is  plaguy  apt  to  ^ 
himself  stung,  and  I  don't  know  as  it  does  not  sarve  him 
right  too ;  but  this  I  must  say,  friend,  that  you're  just  about 
half  right, — that's  a  fact.  The  proper  music  for  a  farmer's 
house  is  the  spinnin'-wheel — the  true  paintin'  the  dye  stufib, — 
and  the  tambourin'  the  loom.  Teach  Arabella  to  be  usefbl 
and  not  showy,  prudent  and  not  extravagant.  She  is  gist 
about  as  liice  a  gall  as  you'll  see  in  a  day's  ride ;  now  don't 
spoil  her,  and  let  her  get  her  head  turned,  for  it  would  be  a 
rael  right  down  ipity.  One  thing  you  may  depend  on  for  sar> 
tain,  as  a  maxim  in  the  farmin'  line, — a  good  darter  and  a 
gofull  hovsekeepert  is  plaguy  apt  to  make  a  good  wife  and  a 
good  mother,  ^-rAH  i  I 

■-  "'-   '■■"'"■  -■•  ■ .  -{fe  ' 

^  •  ■  ?' - 


■■I'.y 


•'/a^,-1. 


.,,,_,,     ],^ivi' 


T-i»*£  KIV'.'^   -a.    .■iir::tim.lA.j 


THE  SNOW  WREATH. 


Whoever  has  read  Haliburton's  History  of  Nova  Scotia 
twhich,  next  to  Mr.  Josiah  Slick's  History  of  Cuttyhunk,  in 
nve  volumes,  is  the  most  important  account  of  unimportant 
things  I  have  ever  seen,)  will  recollect  that  this  good  city  of 
Annapolis  is  the  most  ancient  one  in  North  America;  but 
^here  is  one  fact  omitted  by  that  author,  which  I  trust  he  will 
not  th.nk  an  intrusion  upon  his  province,  if  I  take  the  liberty 
of  recording,  and  that  is,  that  in  addition  to  its  being  the  most 
ancient — it  is  also  the  most  loyal  city  of  this  Western  Hemi- 
sphere. This  character  it  has  always  sustained,  and  '*  royal," 
as  a  mark  of  peculiar  favor,  has  ever  been  added  to  its  cog> 
nomen  by  every  government  that  has  had  dominion  over  it. 

Under  the  French,  with  whom  it  was  a  great  favorite,  it 


THB  SNOW   WRBATH. 


i^m-'i. 


( * 


was  called  Port  Royal ;  and  the  good  Queen  Anne,  who  con- 
descended to  adopt  it,  permitted  it  to  be  called  Annapolis 
Royal.  A  book  ipsuing  from  Nova  Scotia  is,  as  Blackwood 
very  justly  observes,  in  hia  never-to-be-forgotten,  nor  ever* 
to-be-sufiiciently-admired  review  of  the  first  seriCo  of  this 
work,  one  of  those  unexpected  events  that  from  their  great 
improbability,  appear  almost  incredible.  Entertaining  no 
doubt,  therefore,  that  every  member  of  the  cabinet  will  read 
this  luaits  naturtBf  I  take  this  oppoitunity  of  informing  them 
that  our  most  gracious  Sovereign  Queen  Victoria,  has  not  in 
all  her  wide-spread  dominions  more  devoted  or  loyal  subjects 
than  the  good  people  of  Annapolis  Royal. 

Here  it  was,  said  I,  Mr.  Slick,  that  the  egg  was  laid  of  that 
American  bird,  whose  progeny  have  since  spread  over  this 
immense  continent.  Well,  it  is  a  most  beautiful  bird  too,  ain't 
it  ?  said  he ;  what  a  plumage  it  has  I  what  a  size  it  is  1  It  is 
a  whopper — that's  sartain  ;  it  has  the  courage  and  the  soarin* 
of  the  6agle,  and  the  colour  of  the  peacock,  and  his  majestic 
step  and  keen  eye ;  the  world  never  seed  thb  beat  of  it ;  that's 
a  fact.  How  streaked  the  English  must  icel  when  they  think 
they  once  had  it  in  the  cage  and  could'nt  keep  it  there ;  it  is 
a  pity  they  are  so  invyous  tho',  I  declare.  Not  at  all,  I  assure 
you,  I  replied ;  there's  not  a  man  among  them  who  is  not 
ready  to  admit  all  you  have  advanced  in  favour  of  your  na- 
tional emblem  ;  the  fantastic  strut  of  the  peacock,  the  melodi- 
ous and  attic  tones,  the  gaudy  apparel,  the  fondness  for 
display  which  i&>  perpetually  exhibiting  to  the  world  the  ex- 
tended tail  with  painted  stars,  the  amiable  disposition  of  the 
bird  towards  the  younger  and  fsebler  offspring  of  others,  the 

unwieldy I  thought   so,  said  he;   I  had'nt  ought  to 

have  spoke  of  it  afore  you,  for  it  does  seem  to  ryle  yoa ;  that's 
sartain ;  and  I  don't  know  as  it  was  gist  altogether  right  to 
allude  to  a  thin'  that  is  so  humblin'  to  your  national  pride. 
But,  squire,  ain't  this  been  a  hot  day?  I  think  it  would  pass 
muster  among  the  hot  o;  les  of  the  West  Indgies  a'most.  I  do 
wish  I  could  gist  slip  off  my  flesh  and  sit  in  my  bones  for  a*^ 
space,  to  cool  myself,  for  I  ain't  seed  such  thawy  weather  this 
many  a  year,  I  know.  I  calculate  I  will  brew  a  little  lemonade, 
for  Marm  Bailey  ginerally  keeps  the  materials  for  that  Tem- 
perance Society  drink. 

This  climate  o'  Nova  Scotia  does  run  to  extremes ;  it  has 
the  hottest  and  the  coldest  days  in  it  I  ever  seed.  I  shall  never 
forget  a  night  1  spent .  here  three  winters  ago.  1  come  very 
■*  7  .      ■ 


.' 


u~ 


\ 


74 


TRB  OLOOKMAKBR. 


near  freezin*  to  death.  The  very  thought  of  that  night  will 
cool  me  the  hottest  day  in  summer.  It  was  about  the  latter 
eend  oi  February,  as  far  as  my  memory  sarves  me,  I  came 
down  here  to  cross  over  the  bay  to  St.  John,  and  it  was  con> 
siderable  arter  daylight  down  when  I  arrived.  It  was  the 
most  violent  siippery  weather,  and  the  most  cruel  cold,  I 
think,  I  ever  mind  seein'  since  I  was  raised. 


Says  Mp  --n  Bailey  to  me,  Mr.  S  'k,  sr.'  nh  ,  I  don't  know 
what  ondei  he  sjn  I'm  ag  <(P.  to  i- .>  v7!}h  you,  or  how  i  shall 
be  able  to  accommodate  you,  for  *hcco  v  .  v  hole  raft  of  folks 
from  Halifax  here,  and  a  batch  oi  mc  -hutMrt?  officers,  and 
I  don't  know  who  all ;  and  the  house  is  chuci.  .^.M,  I  declare. 
Well,  says  I,  I'm  no  ways  partikilar — I  can  put  up  with  most 
anything.  I'll  gist  take  a  stretch  here,  afore  the  fire  on  the 
floor ; — for  I'm  e'en  a'most  chilled  to  death,  and  awful  sleepy 
too;  first  come,  says  I,  first  sarved,  you  know's  an  old  rule, 
and  luck's  the  word  now-a  days.  Yes,  I'll  gist  take  the  hearth- 
rug for  it,  and  a  good  warm  birth  it  is  too.  Well,  says  she, 
I  can't  think  o'  that  at  no  rate:  there's  old  Mrs.  Fairns  in  the 
next  street  but  dtie ;  she's  got  a  spare  bed  she  lets  out  some- 
times :  ril  send  up  to  her  to  get  it  ready  for  you,  and  to-mor- 
row these  folks  will  be  off,  and  then  you  can  have  your  old 
quarters  again. 

So  arter  supper,  old  Johnny  Farquhar,  the  English  help, 
showed  me  up  to  the  widder's.  She  was  considerable  in 
years,  but  a  cheerfulsome  old  lady  and  very  pleasant,  but  she 
had  a  darter,  the  prettiest  gall  I  ever  seed  since  I  was  created. 
There  was  somethin'  or  another  about  her  that  made  a  body 
feel  melancholy  too ;  she  was  a  lovely-looking  critter,  but  her 
countenance  was  sad  ;  she  was  tall  and  well-made,  had  beau- 
tiful lookin'  long  black  hair  and  black  eyes ;  but  oh  I  how 
pale  :5he  was  I — and  the  only  colour  she  had  was  a  little  fever- 
like lookin'  red  about  her  lips.  She  was  dressed  in  black, 
which  made  her  countenance  look  more  marble-like ;  and  yet 
whatever  it  was, — natur',  or  consumption,  or  desartion,  or  set- 
tin'  on  the  anxious  benches,  oi  what  not,  that  made  her  look 
so,  yet  she  hadn't  fallen  away  one  morsel,  but  was  full  formed 
and  well  waisted.     I  couldn't  keep  my  eyes  off  of  her. 

I  felt  a  kind  o'  interest  in  her ;  I  seemed  as  if  I'd  like  to 
hear  her  story,  for  somethin'  or  another  had  gone  wrong, — 
that  was  clear;  some  little  story  of  the  heart,  most  like,  for 
young  j^alls  are  plaguy  apt  to  have  a  tender  spot  thereabouts. 
She  never  smiled,  and  when  she  looked  on  me,  she  looked  so 


THC   SIfOW   WRBATH. 


like  to 


streaked  and  so  sad  id  cold  withpl.  il  znad-^  mo  kinder  su- 
perstitious. Her  vo  >,  too,  was  lio  mweet,  and  yet  so  doleful , 
that  I  felt  proper  '^on  ,  and  amazin' curious  too;  thinks  ^,  Til 
^ist  ax  to-morrow  a''  ibout,  her,  ;or  folks  have  pretty  ctu  ears 
m  Annapolis ;  therp  \Q*t  a  imack  of  a  kiss  that  Bxah  heerd 
all  over  town  in  twc  two's  and  sometimes  they  think  they  heer 
*cm  cvjn  afore  they  happen.  It'  a\-j0st  a  grand  place  for 
news,  like  all  other  small  places  I  ever  seed.  Well,  I  tried 
jokin'  and  funny  stories,  and  every  kind  o'  thing  to  raise  a 
larC  but  all  wouldn't  do  ;  she  talked  and  listened  and  chatted 
away  as  if  there  was  nothin'  above  partikiler ;  but  still  no 
smile ;  her  face  was  cold  and  clear  and  bright  as  the  icy  sur- 
face of  a  lake,  and  so  transparent  too,  you  could  see  the  veins 
in  it.  After  awhile,  the  old  lady  showed  me  to  my  chamber, 
and  there  was  n  fi.re  in  it ;  but  oh !  my  sakes,  tiow  cold !  it  was 
like  goin'  down  into  a  well  in  summer — it  made  my  blood 
fairly  thicken  ig'in.  Your  tumbler  is  out,  squire ;  try  a  little 
more  of  that  lemonade ;  that  iced  water  is  grand.  Well,  I  sot 
ever  the  fire  a  spw^ce,  and  gathered  up  the  little  bits  o'  brands 
and  kindlin'  wood,  (for  the  logs  were  green,  and  wouldn't 
burn  up  at  no  rate ;)  and  then  I  ondressed  and  made  a  despe- 
rate jump  right  into  the  cold  bed  with  only  half  clothes 
enough  on  it  for  such  weather,  and  wrapped  up  all  the  clothes 
around  me.  Well,  I  thought  I  should  have  died.  The  frost 
was  in  the  sheets, — and  my  breath  looked  like  the  steam  from 
a  boilin'  tea-kettle,  and  it  settled  risht  down  on  the  quilt,  and 
froze  into  white  hoar.  The  nails  m  the  house  cracked  like  a 
gun  with  a  wet  wad, — they  went  off  like  thunder,  and,  now 
and  then,  you'd  hear  some  one  run  along  ever  so  fast,  as  if  he 
couldn't  show  his  nose  to  it  for  one  minit,  and  the  snow  crack- 
in'  and  crumplin'  onder  his  feet,  like  a  new  shoe  with  a  stiff 
sole  to  it.  The  fire  wouldn't  blaze  no  longer,  and  only  gave 
up  a  blue  smoke,  and  the  glass  in  the  window  looked  all  fuzzy 
with  the  frost.  Thinks  I,  I'll  freeze  to  death  to  a  sartainty. 
If  I  go  for  to  drop  off  asleep,  as  sure  as  the  world  I'll  never 
wake  up  ag''n.  I've  heerin'  tell  of  folks  afore  now  feelin' 
dozy  like,  out  in  the  cold,  and  layin'  down  to  sleep,  and  goin' 
for  it,  and  I  don't  half  like  to  try  it,  I  vow.  Well,  I  got  con- 
siderable narvous  like,  and  I  kept  awake  near  about  all  night, 
tremblin'  and  shakin'  like  ague.  My  teeth  fairly  chattered 
ag'in ;  first  I  rubbed  one  foot  ag'in  another, — then  I  doubled 
up  all  on  a  heap,  and  then  rubbed  all  over  with  my  hands. 
Qhl  it  was  dismal,  you  may  depend  ; — at  last  I  began  to  nod 


\/ 


76 


THB   CLOCKMAKBB. 


f 


and  doze,  and  fancy  I  seed  a  flock  of  sheep  atakin*  a  split  for 
it,  over  a  wall,  and  tried  to  count  'em,  one  by  one,  and  couldnH ; 
and  then  I'd  start  up,  and  then  nod  ag'in.  I  felt  it  acomin'  all 
over,  in  spite  of  all  1  could  do ;  and,  thinks  I,  it  ain't  so  ever- 
lastin'  long  to  day-light  now ;  I'll  try  it  any  how — I'll  be 
darn'd  if  I  don't — so  here  goes. 

JOBt  as  I  shot  my  eves,  and  made  up  my  mind  for  a  nap,  I 
hears  a  low  moan  and  a  sob  ;  well,  I  sits  up,  and  listens,  but 
all  was  silent  again.  Nothin'  but  them  etarnal  nails  agoin' 
off,  one  arter  t'other,  like  anything.  Thinks  I  to  myselff  the 
wind's  a  gettin'  up,  I  estimate ;  it  s  as  like  as  not  we  shall 
have  a  change  o'  the  weather.  Presently  I  heerd  a  light  step 
on  the  entry,  and  the  door  opens  soflly,  and  in  walks  the  wid- 
der's  darter  on  tip  toe,  dressed  in  a  long  white  wrapper,  and 
after  peerin'  all  round  to  see  if  I  was  asleep,  she  goes  and  sits 
down  in  the  chimney  corner,  and  picks  up  the  coals  and  fixes 
the  fire,  and  sits  alookin'  at  it  for  ever  so  long.  Oh !  so  sad, 
and  so  melancholy ;  it  was  dreadful  to  see  her.  Says  I,  to 
myself,  says  I,  what  on  oirth  brings  the  poor  critter  here,  all 
alone,  this  time  o'night ;  and  the  air  so  plaguy  cold  too.  I 
guess,  she  thinks  I'll  freeze  to  death  ;  or,  perhaps,  she's 
v.ulkin'  in  her  sleep.  But  there  she  sot  lookin'  more  like  a 
ghost  than  human — first  she  warmed  one  foot,  and  then  the 
other ;  and  then  held  her  hands  over  the  coals,  and  moaned 
bitterly.  Dear !  dear !  thinks  I,  that  poor  critter  is  a  freezin' 
to  death  as  well  as  me ;  I  do  believe  the  world  is  comin'  to  an 
cend  right  off,  and  we  shall  all  die  of  cold,  and  ^shivered  all 
over.  Presently  she  got  up,  and  I  saw  her  face  part  covered, 
with  her  long  black  hair,  and  the  other  parts  so  white  and  so 
cold,  it  chilled  me  to  look  at  it,  and  her  foot  steps  I  consaited 
sounded  louder,  and  I  cast  my  eyes  down  to  her  feet,  and  I 
actilly  did  fancy  they  looked  froze.  Well,  she  come  near  the 
bed,  and  lookin'  at  mc,  stood  for  a  space  without  stirrin',  and 
then  she  cried  bitterly.  He,  too,  is  doomed,  said  she ;  he  is 
in  the  sletjp  of  death,  and  so  far  from  home,  and  all  his  friends 
too.  Not  yet,  said  I,  you  dear  critter  you,  not  yet,  you  may 
depend  ; — but  you  will  be,  if  you  don't  go  to  bed ; — so  says  I, 
do  for  gracious  sake,  return  to  your  room,  or  you  will  perish. 
It's  frozen,  says  she ;  it's  deathly  cold ;  the  bed  is  a  snow- 
wreath,  and  the  pillow  is  ice,  and  the  coverlid  is  congealed ; 
the  chill  ha?  struck  into  my  heart,  and  my  blood  has  ceased 
to  flow  I'm  doomed,  I'm  doomed  to  die ;  and  oh  !  how 
gt range,  how  cold  is  death !     Well,  I  was  all  struck  up  of  a 


THE   SirOW   VTRKATH. 


77 


h^ap ;  I  didnU  know  what  on  airth  to  do  ;  says  I  to  myself, 
says  I,  here^s  this,  poor  gall  in  my  room  carry  in  on  like  ravin* 
distracted  mad"  in  the  middle  of  the  night  here ;  she*s  oneasy 
in  her  mind,  and  is  awalkin*  as  sure  as  the  world,  and  how 
it's  agoin'  to  eend,  I  don't  know — that's  a  fact.  Katey,  says 
I,  dear,  I'll  get  up  and  give  you  my  bed  if  you  are  cold,  and 
I'll  go  and  make  up  a  great  rousm'  big  fire,  and  I'll  call  up 
the  old  lady,  and  she  will  see  to  you,  and  get  you  a  hot  drink  ; 
somethin'  must  be  done,  to  a  sartainty,  for  I  can't  bear  to  hear 
you 'talk  so.  No,  says  she,  not  for  the  world ;  what  will  my 
mother  say,  Mr.  Slick?  and  me  here  in  your  room,  and 
nothin'  but  this  wrapper  on  ;  it's  too  late  now  ;  it's  all  over  ; 
and  with  that  she  fainted,  and  fell  right  across  the  bed.  Oh ! 
how  cold  she  was  !  the  chill  struck  into  me  ;  I  feel  it  yet ;  the 
very  thoughts  is  enough  to  j/ive  one  the  ague.  Well,  I'm  a 
modest  man,  squire ;  1  was  always  modest  from  a  boy ;  but 
there  was  no  time  for  ceremony  now,  for  there  was  a  suffenn' 
dyin'  critter — so  I  drew  her  in,  and  folded  her  in  my  arms,  in 
hopes  she  would  come  to,  but  death  was  there. 

I  breathed  on  her  icy  lips,  but  life  seemed  extinct,  and 
every  time  I  pressed  her  to  me,  I  shrunk  from  her  till  my 
back  touched  the  cold  gypsum  wall.  It  felt  like  a  tomb,  so 
chill,  so  damp,  so  cold — (you  have  no  notion  how  cold  them 
are  kind.o'  walls  are,  they  beat  all  natur') — squeezed  between 
this  frozen  gall  on  one  side,  and  the  icy  plaster  on  the  other, 
I  felt  as  if  my  own  life  was  aebbin'  away  fast.  Poor  critter  I 
says  I,  has  her  care  of  me  brought  her  to  this  pass  7  I'll 
press  her  to  my  heart  once  more  ;  p'r'aps  the  little  heat  that's 
left  there  may  revive  her,  and  I  can  but  die  a  few  minutes 
sooneis  It  was  a  last  eflbrt,  but  it  succeeded ;  she  seemed  to 
breathe  again — I  spoke  to  her,,  but  she  couldn't  answer,  tho'  I 
felt  her  tears  flow  fnst  on  my  bosom ;  but  I  was  actilly  sinkin' 
fast  myself  now — I  felt  my  eend  approachin'.  Then  came 
reflection,  bitter  and  sad  thoughts  they  were  too,  I  tell  you. 
Dear,  dear  !  said  I ;  here's  a  pretty  kettle  o'  fish,  ain't  there  ? 
we  shall  be  both  found  dead  here  in  the  mornin',  and  what 
will  folks  say  of  this  beautiful  gall,  and  of  one  of  our  free 
and  enlightened  citizens,  found  in  such  a  scrape  1  Nothin' 
will  be  too  bad  for  'em  that  they  can  lay  their  tongues  to ; 
that's  a  fact ;  the  Yankee  villain,  tho  cheatin'  Clockmaker, 

the ,  the  thought  gave  my  heart  a  jupe,  so  sharp,  so  deep, 

so  painful,  I  awoke  and  found  I  was  ahuggin'  a  snow  wreath, 
that  had  sifted  thro'  a   hole  in  the  roof  on  tlje  bed:  nart 
7* 


a 


THE   CLOCKMAKBR. 


r 


k? 


r- 


had  melted  nnd  trickled  down  my  breast,  and  part  had  froze 
to  the  clothes,  and  chilled  me  through.  1  woke  up,  proper 
glad  it  was  all  a  dream,  you  may  depend — hut  amazin'  cold 
and  dreadful  stiff,  and  I  was  laid  up  at  this  place  for  three 
weeks  with  the  'cute  rheumntis, — that's  a  fact. 

But  your  pale  young  friend,  said  I ;  did  you  ever  see  her 
again?  pray,  what  became  of  her?  Would  you  believe  it? 
said  he ;  the  next  mornin',  when  I  came  down,  there  sot  Katey 
by  the  fire,  lookin'  as  bloomin'  as  a  rose,  and  as  chipper  as  a 
canary  bird ; — the  fact  is,  I  was  so  uncommon  cold,  and  so 
sleepy  too,  the  night  afore,  that  I  thought  every  body  and 
every  thing  looked  cold  and  dismal  too.  Mornin',  sir,  said 
she,  as  I  entered  the  keepin'  room  j  mornin'  to  you,  Mr.  Slick  ; 
how  did  you  sleep  last  night  ?  I'm  most  afeard  you  found  that 
are  room  dreadful  cold,  for  little  Biney  opened  the  window  at 
the  head  of  the  bed  to  make  the  fire  draw  and  start  the  smoke 
up,  and  forgot  to  shut  it  again,  and  I  guess  it  was  wide  opeti 
all  night ; — I  minded  it  arter  I  got  to  bed,  and  I  thought  I 
should  ha'  died  a  larfin'.  Thank  you,  said  I,  for  that ;  but 
you  forget  you  come  and  shot  it  yourself.  Me !  said  she ;  I 
never  did  no  such  a  thing.  Catch  me  indeed  agoin  into  a 
gentleman's  chamber ;  no,  indeed,  not  for  the  world  I  If  I 
wasn't  cold,  said  I,  it's  a  pity, — that's  all ;  I  was  'een  a'most 
frozen  as  stiff  as  a  poker,  and  near  about  frightened 'to  death 
too,  for  I  seed  you  or  your  ghost  last  night,  as  plain  as  I  see 
you  now  ;  that's  a  fact.  A  ghost !  said  she ;  how  you  talk  ! 
do  tell.  Why,  how  was  that  ?  Well,  I  told  her  the  whole 
story  from  beginning  to  eend.  First  she  larfed  ready  to  split 
at  my  account  of  the  cold  room,  and  my  bein'  afeard  to  gc  to 
sleep ;  but  then  she  stopt  pretty  short,  I  guess,  and  blushed 
like  anything,  when  I  told  her  about  her  comin'  into  the  cham- 
her,  and  looked  proper  frightened,  not  knowin'  what  was  to 
come  next ;  but  when  she  heerd  of  her  turnin'  first  into  an 
icecicle,  and  then  into  a  snow-drifl,  she  haw-hawed  right  out. 
I  thought  she  actilly  would  have  gone  into  hysterics.  You 
might  have  frozen,  said  she,  in  rael  right  down  earnest,  afore 
I'd  agone  into  your  chamber  at  that  time  o'night  to  see  artar 
you,  or  your  fire  either,  said  she,  you  may  depend :  I  can't 
think  what  on  airth  could  have  put  that  are  crotchet  into  your 
head.  Nor  I  neither,  said  I ;  and  besides,  said  I,  aketchin' 
hold  of  her  hand,  and  drawin'  her  close  to  me, — and  besides, 
says  I, — I  shouldn't  have  felt  so  awful  cold  neither,  if  you 
.     Hold^your  tongue,  said  she,  you  goney  you,  this  min* 


THE   SirOW   WREATH. 


79 


nit ;  I  won't  hear  another  word  about  it,  and  go  right  off  and 
get  your  breakfast,  for  you  was  sent  for  half  an  hour  ago. 
Arter  bein*  mocked  all  night,  says  I,  by  them  are  icy  lips  of 
your  ghost.  Now  I  see  them  are  pretty  little  sarcy  ones  of 
your'n,  I  think  I  must,  and  I'll  be  darned  if  I  won't  have  a 
■  Well,  I  estimate  you  won't,  then,  said  she,  you  impe> 

dence, — and  she  did  fend  off  like  a  brave  one — that's  a  fact ; 
she  made  frill,  shirt  collor,  and  dickey,  fly  like  snow ;  she  was 
as  smart  as  a  fox  trap,  and  as  wicked  as  a  meet  axe ;— there 
was  no  gettin'  near  her  no  how.  At  last,  says  she,  if  there 
ain't  mother  acomin',  I  do  declare,  and  my  hair  is  all  spifli- 
cated,  too,  like  a  mop, — and  my  dress  all  rumfoozled,  like 
any  thing,— do,  for  gracious  sake,  set  thihgs  to  right  a  little, 
afore  mother  comes  m,  and  then  cut  and  run :  my  heart  is  in 
my  mouth,  I  declare.  Then  she  sot  down  in  a  chair,  and  put 
both  hands  behind  her  head  a  puttin'  in  her  combs.  Oh  dear, 
said  she,  pretendin'  to  try  to  get  away ;  is  that  what  you  call 
puttin'  things  to  rights  ?  Don't  squeeze  so  hard ;  you'll  choke 
me,  I  vow.  It  tante  me  that's  achokin'  of  you,  says  I,  it's  the 
•  heart  that's  in  your  mouth.  Oh,  if  it  had  only  been  them 
lips  instead  of  the  ghost  I  Quick,  says  she,  aopenin'  of  the 
door, — I  hear  mother  on  the  steps ;— quick,  be-  off;  but  mind 
you  don't  tell  any  one  that  ghost  story ;  people  might  think 
there  was  more  in  it  than  met  the  ear.  Well,  well,  said  I  to 
myself,  for  a  pale  face,  sad,  melancholy  lookin'  gall,  if  you 
hav'n't  turned  out  as  rosy  a  rompin',  larkin',  light-hearted  a 
heifer  as  ever  I  seed  afore,  it's  a  pity. — There's  another  lemon 
left,  squire,  s'pose  we  mix  a  little  more  sourin'  afore  we  turn 
in,  and  take  another  glass  "  to  the  widder's  darter." 


:'*4i/ 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE  TALISMAN. 


It  was  our  intention  to  have  led  Annapolis  this  morning 
afler  breakfast,  and  proceeded  to  Digby,  a  small  but  beautiful 
village,  situated  at  the  entrance  of  that  magnificent  sheet  of 
water,  once  known  as  Port  Royal  Bason,  but  lately  by  the 
more  euphonious  appellation  of  the  "  Gut."  But  Mr.  Slick 
was  missing,  nor  could  any  trace  of  him  be  found  ;  I  there- 
fore ordered  the  horse  again  to  the  stable,  and  awaited  his 


V"  - 


'*i-'  ''•■-- 


80 


THft  OtOOKMAXBtl. 


\l 


return  with  all  dwi  patience.  It  was  five  o'clock  in  the  af)er- 
noon  betbro  he  made  his  appearance.  Sorry  to  keep  you 
awaitin*,  Siaid  ho,  but  I  got  completely  lot  in  for  it  this  mcrn« 
in';  I  put  my  foot  in  it,  you  may  depend.  I've  got  a  grand 
story  to  toll  you;  aud  one  that  will  make  you  larf  too,  I  know* 
Whero  do  you  think  I  ve  been  of  all  places  onder  the  sun  ? 
Why,  I'vo  been  to  court ;  that's  a  fact.  I  see  i  a  great  crowd 
of  'Mks  about  the  door,  and  thinks  I,  who's  dead,  and  what's 
to  pay  now  ?     I  thipk  I'll  just  step  in  for  a  miiiit  and  see. 

VVhnt's  on  the  carpet  lo-dny'f  says  I  to  a  blue  nose;  what's 
goin'  on  hero?  Why,  said  he,  they  are  agoin'  for  to  try 
ft  Yankee.  What  for  ?  ^aid  I.  Stcelin',  says  he.  A  Yankee, 
says  I  to  myself;  well,  that's  strange  too;  that  beats  me  any- 
how ;  I  never  heerd  tell  of  a  Yankee  bein'  such  a  born  fool  as 
to  steal.  If  the  feller  has  been  such  a  ravin'  destracted 
coney,  I  hope  they  will  hang  him,  the  varmint ;  that's  a  feet. 
It's  mostly  them  thick-skulled,  wrong-headed,  cussed  stupid 
fools  tlio  British  thiit  do  that  are ;  they  ain't  brought  up  well, 
and  hav'n't  got  no  edication ;  but  our  folks  know  better ; 
they've  been  bettcjf  larned  than  to  do  the  like  o'  that — they 
can  get  most  any  thing  they  want  by  gettin'  hold  on  the  right 
eend  in  a  bargain ;  they  do  maiiage  beautiful  in  a  trade,  a  slight 
o'  hand,  a  loan,  a  failin',  a  £,>eckolation,  swamp,  thimble-rig, 
or  some  how  or  another  in  t^o  regular  way  within  the  law  ; 
but  as  for  steelin' — never— I  don't  believe  he's  a  Yankee. 
No,  thinks  I,  he  can't  bo  Am5»rican,  bred  and  born,  for  we  are 
too  enlighened  for  that,  by  n,  long  chalk.  We  have  a  great 
respect  for  the  laws,  squire;  we've  been  bred  to  that,  and 
always  uphold  the  dignity  of  the  law.  I  recollect  once  that 
some  of  our  young  citizens  away  above  Montgomery  got  into 
a  fiareup  with  a  party  of  boatmen  that  lives  on  the  Mississippi ; 
a  desperate  row  it  was,  too,  and  three  of  the  Kcntuckians 
were  killed  as  dead  as  herrins'.  Well,  they  were  had  up  for 
it  afore  Judge  Cotton.  He  was  one  of  our  revolutionary 
heroes,  a  starn,  hard-featured  old  man,  quite  a  Cato — and  he 
did  curry  'cm  down  with  a  heavy  hand,  you  may  depend ; — 
ho  had  no  marcy  on  'cm.  There  he  sot  with  his  hat  on, 
a  cigar  in  his  mouth,  his  arms  folded,  and  his  feet  over  the 
rail,  lookin'  as  sour  as  an  onripe  lemon.  Bring  up  them  ouU 
prits,  said  he,  and  when  they  were  brought  up  he  told  'em 
it  was  scandalous,  and  only  fit  for  English  and  ignorant 
foreigners  that  sit  on  the  outer  porch  of  darkness,  and  not 
high-minded  intelligent  Americans.     You  arc  a  disgrace,  said 


V* 


^^ 


n   I 


THB    TALISMAir. 


t 


he»  to  our  great  nation,  and  I  hope  I  shall  never  hear  the  like 
of  it  ag*in.  If  I  do,  Pil  put  you  on  trial  aa  sure  as  you  t,re 
born,  1  hope  I  may  be  skinned  alive  by  wild  cats,  if  I  don't. 
Well,  they  didn't  like  this  kind  o'  talk  at  all,  so  that  night 
away  they  goes  to  the  judge's  house  to  teach  him  a  thing  or 
two,  with  a  cowskin,  and  kicked  up  a  deuce  of  a  row ;  and 
what  do  you  think  the  neighbours  did?  Why,  they  gist 
walked  in,  seized  the  ringleaders  and  lynched  them  in  loss 
than  ten  minits,  on  one  of  the  linden  trees  afore  the  judge's 
door. 

They  said  the  law  must  be  vindicated — and  that  courts 
must  be  upheld  by  all  quiet,  orderly  people,  for  a  terror  to 
ovil-docrs.  The  law  must  take  its  course.  No,  thinks  I,  he 
can''t  be  a  Yankee ; — if  he  was,  end  had  awanted  the  article, 
he  would  ha'  done  him  out  of  it,  p'r'aps  in  a  trade,  bein'  too 
experienced  a  man  of  business  for  him ;  but  steal  it,  never, 
never— I  don't  believe  it,  I  vow.  Well,  I  walked  into  the 
court-houso,  and  there  was  a  ^reat  crowd  of  folks  there,  a 
jubl>crin'  and  a  talkin'  away  like  any  thing  (for  blue  nose 
needn't  lurn  his  back  on  any  one  for  talkin' — the  critter  is  all 
tongue,  like  an  old  horse) — presently  in  come  one  or  two 
}roung  lawyers,  in  n  dreadful  hurry,  with  great  piles  of  books 
under  their  arms  with  white  leather  covers,  and  great  bundles 
of  papers  tied  with  red  tape,  and  put  'em  down  on  the  table 
afore  'em,  lookin'  very  big  with  the  quantity  of  larnin'  they 
carried  ;  thinks  I,  young  shavers,  if  you  had  more  of  that  in 
your  heads,  and  less  under  your  arms,  you  would  have  the 
use  of  your  hands  to  play  with  your  thumbs,  when  you  had 
nothin'  to  do.  Then  came  in  one  or  two  old  lawyers,  and  sot 
down  and  nodded  here  and  there,  to  some  o'  the  upper-crust 
folks  o'  the  county,  and  then  shook  hands  amazin'  hearty  with 
the  young  lawyers,  and  the  young  lawyers  larfed,  and  the  old 
ones  larfed,  and  they  all  nodded  their  heads  together  like  a 
flock  of  geese  agoin'  thro'  a  gate. 

FVesently  the  sheriff  calls  out  at  the  tip  end  of  his  voice, 
"Clear  the  way  for  the  judge;" — and  the  judge  walks  ip  to 
the  bench,  lookin'  down  to  his  feet  to  see  he  didn't  treati  on 
other  folks'  toes,  and  put  his  arm  behind  \n>  back,  and  twirls 
the  tail  of  his  gown  over  it  so,  that  other  folks  mightn't  tread 
on  hia'n.  Well,  when  he  gets  to  the  bench,  he  stands  up  as 
straight  as  a  liberty  pole,  and  the  lawyers  all  stand  up  straight 
too,  and  clap  their  eyes  on  his  till  he  winks,  and  then  both  on 
'em  slowly  bend  their  bodies  forward  till  they  nearly  touch 


■J^ 


91  THB   CLOCKMAKfiR. 

the  tables  with  their  noses,  and  then  they  sot  down,  and  the 
judge  took  a  look  all  round,  as  if  he  saw  every  thing  in  gine^ 
ral  and  nothin*  in  partikilar — I  never  seed  anything  so  queer 
afore,  I  vow.  It  puts  me  in  mind  o*  the  Chinese,  but  they  bob 
their  foreheads  clean  away  down  to  the  very  floor. 

Well,  then,  said  the  crier,  "  Oh  yes !  Oh  yes !  His  Majes- 
ty's (I  mean  her  Majesty's)  court  is  now  opened.  God  save 
the  King  (I  mean  the  Queen.)"  Oh !  if  folks  didn't  larf  it's 
a  pity — for  I've  often  obsarved  it  takes  but  a  very  small  joke 
to  make  a  crowd  larf.  They'll  larf  at  nothin'  amost.  Silence, 
said  the  sheriff,  and  all  was  as  still  as  moonlight.  It  looked 
strange  to  me,  you  may  depend,  for  the  lawyers,  looked  like 
so  many  ministers  all  dressed  in  black  gowns  and  white  bands 
on,  only  they  acted  more  like  players  than  preachers,  a  plaguy 
sight.  But,  said  I,  is  not  this  the  case  in  your  country ;  is 
there  not  some  sort  of  professional  garb  worn  by  the  bar  of  the 
United  States,  and  do  not  the  barristers  and  the  court  exchange 
those  salutations  which  the  common  courtesies  of  life  not  only 
sanction  but  imperatively  require  as  essential  to  the  preserva- 
tion of  mutual  respect  and  general  good  breeding?  What  on 
airth,  said  the  Clockmaker,  can  a  black  gound  have  to  do  with 
intelligence  ?  Them  sort  of  liveries  may  do  in  Europe,  but 
they  don't  convene  to  our  free  and  enlightened  citizens.  It's 
too  foreign  for  us,  too  unphilosophical,  too  feudal,  and  a  rem- 
nant o'  the  dark  ages.  No  sir;  our  lawyers  do  as  they  like. 
Some  on  'em  dress  in  black,  and  some  in  white ;  some  carry 
walking-sticks,  and  some  umbrallas,  some  whittle  sticks  with 
pen-knives,  and  some  shave  the  table,  and  some  put  their  legs 
under  the  desks,  and  some  put  'em  a  top  of  them,  just  as  it 
suits  them.  They  sit  as  they  please,  dress  as  they  please, 
and  talk  as  they  please ;  we  are  a  free  people.  I  guess  if  a 
judge  in  our  country  was  to  order  the  lawyers  to  jappear  all 
dressed  in  black,  they'd  soon  ax  him  who  elected  him  director- 
general  of  fashions,  and  where  he  found  such  arbitrary  power 
in  the  constitution,  as  that,  committed  to  any  man. 

But  I  was  agoin'  to  teU  you  'bout  the  trial. — Presently  one 
o'  the  old  lawyers  got  up,  and  said  he.  My  lord,  said  he,  I 
more,  your  lordship,  that  the  prisoner  may  be  brought  up. 
And  if  it  warn't  a  move  it  was  a  pity.  The  lawyer  moved 
ihe  judge,  and  the  judge  moved  the  sheriff,  and  the  sheriff 
moved  the  crowd,  for  they  ail  moved  out  together,  leavin' 
hardly  any  one  on  thijm,  but  the  judge  and  the  lawyers ;  and 
in  a  few  minits  they  all  ?noved  back  ag'in  with  a  prisoner. 


H' 


sA 


>f 


THE   TALISMAK. 


# 


i'  '* 


They  seemed  as  if  they  had  never  seen  a  prisoner  before. 
When  they  came  to  call  the  jury  they  did'nt  all  answer  ;  so 
says  the  sheriff  to  me,  walk  in  the  box — you  sir,  with  the 
blue  coat.  Do  you  indicate  me,  sir  ?  said  I.  Yes,  says  he, 
I  do ;  walk  in  the  box.  I  give  you  thank?,  jjir,  says  I,  but  Pd 
rather  stand  where  I  be ;  I've  no  c^casion  to  sit ;  and  besides, 
I  guess,  I  must  be  a  movin.'  Walk  in  the  box,  sir,  said  he, 
and  he  roared  like  thunder.  And,  says  the  judge,  a  Ipokin* 
up,  and  smilin*  and  speakin*  as  soil  as  if  butter  wouldn't  melt 
in  his  mouth,  you  must  walk  in  the  box,  sir.  Well,  says  I,  to 
oblige  you,  says  I,  my  lord,  I  will ;  but  there  don't  seem  much 
room  in  it  to  walk,  I  vow.  You  are  called  upon,  sir,  says  the 
judge,  as  a  talisman ;  take  your  seat  in  the  box,  and  be  silent. 
If  I  must,  says  I,  I  do  suppose  I  must ;  but  I  don't  like  the 
office,  and  I  don't  believe  I've  got  a  marker  about  me ;  but  if 
you've  are  a  piece  of  chalk  about  you,  or  could  give  me  or  lend 
me  an  old  pencil,  I'll  try  to  cipher  it  as  well  as  I  can,  and  do 
my  possibles  to  give  you  satisfaction,  my  lord.  What  are 
you  atalkin'  about,  sir  ?  said  he — what  do  you  mean  by  such 
nonsense  ?  Why,  says  I,  my  lord,  I've  been  told  that  in  this 
country,  and  indeed  I  know  it  is  the  practice  almost  all  over 
ourn  for  the  jury  to  chalky  thnt  is,  every  man  chalks  down  on 
the  wall  his  vote;  one  m?n  ten  pounds,  one  twenty,  another 
thirty,  and  another  five  pounds,  and  ^c ;  and  then  they  add 
them  all  up,  and  divide  by  twelve,  and  that  makes  the  vardict. 
Now  if  I'm  to  be  talysman  says  I,  and  keep  county  I'll  chalk 
it  as  straight  as  a  boot-jack.  The  judge  throwed  himself  back 
in  his  chair,  and  turning  to  the  sheriff,  says  he,  is  it  possible, 
Mr.  Sheriff,  that  duch  an  abominable  practice  as  this  exists  in 
this  country  ?  or  that  people,  under  the  solemn  obligation  of 
an  oath,  can  conduct  themselves  with  so  much  levity  as  to 
make  their  verdict  depend  upon  chance,  and  not  upon  reason? 
If  I  was  to  know  an  instance  of  the  kind,  said  he, — and  he 
looked  battle,  murder,  and  sudden  death — I'd  both  fine  and 

imprison  the  jury — I  would,  by (and  he  gave  the  corner 

of  his  mouth  a  twist  just  in  time  to  keep  in  an  oath  that  was 
on  the  tip  of  his  tongue,)  and  he  hesitated  a  little  to  think  how 
to  get  out  of  the  scrape — at  least  I  consaited  so — by  and  with 
the  full  consent  of  my  brethren  on  the  bench. 

I  have  my  suspicions,  said  the  Clockraaker,  that  the  judge 
had  heerd  tell  of  that  practice  afore,  and  was  only  waitin'  for 
a  complaint  to  take  notice  of  it  regiiar-like,  for  them  old  judges 
are  as  cunnin'  as  foxes ;  and  if  he  had,  I  must  say  he  did  do 


\ 


84 


THE   OLOCKMAKBR. 


\i 


the  surprise  very  well,  for  he  looked  all  struck  up  of  a  heap, 
like  a  vessel  taken  aback  with  a  squall,  agoin'  down  starn 
foremost.  .  ^  ,.,  jt  ciit^ 

Who  is  that  man  ?  said  he.  I  am  a  clockmaker,  sir,  said 
I.  I  didn't  ask  you  what  you  were,  sir,  says  he,  acolorin'  up; 
I  asked  you  who  you  v.  ere.  I'm  Mr.  Samuel  Slick  of  Slick- 
ville,  sir,  says  I,  a  clockmaker  from  Onion  County,  State  of 
Connecticut,  in  the  United  States  of  America.  You  are  exempt, 
said  he — you  may  walk  ovt  of  the  box.  Thinks  I  to  myself, 
old  chap,  next  time  you  want  a  talisman  take  one  of  your  own 
folks,  will  you  ?  Well,  when  I  looked  up  to  the  prisoner,  sure 
enough  I  seed  he  was  one  of  our  citizens,  one  "Expected 
Thorne,"  of  our  town,  an  endless  villain,  that  had  been  two 
or  three  times  in  the  State's  prison.  The  case  was  a  very 
plain  one.  Captain  Billy  Slocum  produced  a  watch,  which  he 
said  was  his'n ;  he  said  he  went  our  arter  dinner,  leavin'  his 
watch  ahangin'  up  over  the  mantle  piece,  and  when  he 
returned  to  tea  it  was  gone,  and  that  it  was  found  in  Expected 
Thome's  possession.  Long  before  the  evidence  was  gone 
through,  I  seed  |ie  was  guilty,  the  villain.  There  is  a  sort  of 
freemasonry  in  hippocrasy,  squire,  you  may  depend.  It  has 
its  signs  and  looks  by  which  the  brotherhood  know  each 
other;  and  as  charity  hopeth  all  things,  and  forgivcth  all 
things,  these  appeals  of  the  elect  of  each  other  from  the  lowest 
depths  of  woe,  whether  conveyed  by  the  eye,  the  garb,  or  the 
tongue,  are  seldom  made  in  vain. 

Expected  had  seed  too  much  of  the  world,  I  estimate,  not  to 
know  that.  If  he  hadn't  his  go-to-meetin'  dress  and  looks  on 
this  day  to  do  the  jury,  it's  a  pity.  He  had  his  hair  combed 
down  as  straight  as  a  horse's  mane ;  a  little  thin  white  cravat, 
nicely  plaited  and  tied  plain,  garnished  his  neck,  as  a  white 
towel  does  a  dish  of  calves'  head — a  standin'  up  collar  to  his 
coat  gave  it  the  true  cut,  and  the  gilt  buttons  covered  with 
cloth  eschewed  the  gaudy  ornaments  of  sinful,  carnal  man. 
He  looked  as  demure  as  a  harlot  at  a  christenin' — drew  down 
the  corners  of  his  mouth,  so  as  to  contract  the  trumpet  of  his 
nose,  and  give  the  right  base  twang  to  the  voice,  and  turned 
up  the  white.'  f  his  eyes,  as  if  he  had  been  in  the  habit  ol 
lookin'  in  jp-;  ♦hj  ikjaer  man  for  self-examination  ana 
reproach.  Oh,  he  '•:  "ked  iiice  a  martyr ;  gist  like  a  man  who 
would  suffer  def.th  tor  '•onscir.nce  sake,  anc'  forgive  his  enemies 
with  his  dy':?'  bivath. 

Gentlemea  v^  *\o  jury,  says  Llxpected,  I  am  a  stranger  and 


:>f  a  heap, 
>wn  starn 

%  sir,  said 
>lorin'  up; 
of  Slick- 
,  State  of 
'0  exempt, 
to  myself, 
your  own 
3ner,  sure 
Expected 
been  two 
as  a  very 
which  he 
Bavin'  his 
when   he 
Expected 
vas  gone 
a  sort  of 
•     It  has 
ow  each 
[iveth  all 
le  lowest 
b,  or  the 

e,  not  to 
looks  on 

combed 
3  cravat, 

a  white 
ar  to  his 
'ed  with 
al  man. 
w  down 
Jt  of  his 
turned 
habit  ol 
on  ana 
lan  who 
enemies 


ger  and 


THB   TALISMAN. 

a  sojounier  in  this  land,  but  I  have  many  friends  and  receiTe 
much  kindness,  thanks  be  lo  divine  Providence  for  all  hie 
goodness  to  me  a  sinner ;  and  I  donH  make  no  doubt  that  tha' 
I  be  a  stranger,  his  lordship's  honor  will,  under  Providence, 
see  justice  done  to  me.  The  last  time  I  was  to  Captain  Billy's 
house  I  seed  his  watch,  and  that  it  was  out  of  order,  and 
I  ofiered  to  clean  it  and  repair  it  for  him  for  nothin',  free 
gratis,  thai  I  canU  p»'ove.  But  I'll  tell  you  what  /  can  provtf 
and  it's  a  privilege  for  which  I  desire  to  render  thanks ;  that 
when  that  gentleman,  the  constable,  came  to  me,  and  said  he 
came  about  the  watch,  I  said  to  him,  right  out  at  once,  "  She's 
cleaned,  says  I,  but  wants  regulatin';  if  Captain  Billy  is  in 
a  hurry  for  her  he  can  have  her,  but  he  had  better  leave  hier 
two  or  three  days  to  get  the  right  beat."  And  never  did 
I  deny  havin'  it  as  a  guilty  man  would  have  done.  And,  my 
lord,  said  he,  and  gentlemen  of  the  jury  (and  he  turned  up 
his  ugly  cantin'  mug  full  round  to  the  box) — I  trust  I  know 
too  well  the  awful  account  1  must  one  day  give  of  the  deeds 
done  in  the  flesh  to  peril  my  immortal  soul  for  vain,  idle, 
sinful  toys ;  and  he  held  up  his  hands  together,  and  looked 
upwards  till  his  eyes  turned  in  like  them  are  ones  in  a  marble 
statue,  and  his  lips  kept  amovin'  some  time  as  if  he  was  lost 
in  inward  prayer.        :    r  ;? 

Well,  the  constable  proved  it  word  for  word,  and  the  judge 
said  it  did  appear  that  there  was  some  mistake ;  at  all  events, 
it  did  not  appear  there  was  evidence  of  a  felonious  takin',  and 
he  was  acquitted.  As  soon  as  it  was  over.  Expected  comes 
to  me  in  the  corner,  and,  says  he,  quite  bold  like,  Mornin', 
Slick,  how  do  you  do  ?  And  then  whisperin'  in  my  ear,  says 
he.  Didn't  I  do  'em  pretty  1  cuss  'em — that's  all.  Let  old 
Connecticut  alone  yet — she's  too  much  for  any  on  'em,  I 
know.  The  truth  is,  the  moment  I  seed  that  cussed  critter, 
that  constable  acomin',  I  seed  his  arrand  with  half  an  eye, 
and  had  that  are  story  ready -tongued  and  grooved  for  him,  as 
quick  as  wink.  Says  I,  I  wish  they  had  ahanged  you,  with 
all  my  heart ;  it's  such  critters  as  you  that  lower  the  national 
character.'of  our  free  and  enlightened  citizens,  and  degrade  it 
in  the  eyes  of  foreigners.  The  eyes  of  foreigners  be  d  d  I 
said  he.  Who  cares  what  they  think  ? — and  as  for  these 
blue  noses,  they  ain't  able  to  think.  They  ain't  got  two  ideas 
to'  bless  themselves  with, — the  stupid,  punkin-headed,  concaited 
blockheads ! — cuss  me  if  they  have.  Well,  says  I,  they  ain't 
such  an  enlightened  people  as  we  arc,  that's  sartain,  but  that 
8 


\ 


t"-     T^«»-' 


0 


*-•# 


I 


1'^ 


8» 


THE    OLOOKMAKBR. 


r 


\ 


don't  justify  you  a  bit ;  you  hadn't  ought  to  have  stolen  that 
watch.  That  was  wrong,  very  wrong  indeed.  You  might 
have  traded  with  him,  and  got  it  for  half  nothin' ;  or  bought 
it  and  failed,  as  some  of  our  importin'  marchants  sew  up  the 
soft-horned  British ;  or  swapped  it  and  forgot  to  give  the  ex- 
change ;  or  boi^ht  it  and  give  your  note,  and  cut  stick  afore 
the  note  came  due.  There's  a  thousand  ways  of  doin'  it 
honestly  and  legally,  without  resortin',  as  foreigners  do,  to 
>stealin'.  We  are  a  moral  people, — a  religious,  a  high-minded, 
and  a  high-spirited  people ;  and  can  do  any,  and  all  the  na- 
tions of  the  univarsal  world,  out  of  any  thing,  in  the  hundred 
of  millions  of  clever  shifts  there  are  in  trade ;  but  as  for 
stealin',  I  despise  it ;  it's  a  low,  blackguard,  dirty,  mean  ac- 
tion ;  and  I  must  say  you're  a  disgrace  to  our  great  nation. 
An  American  citizen  never  steahy  he  only  gains  the  advan- 
tage ! 


'v-'f  «.;>.■ 


>•«". 


•itf! 


CHAPTER  XI. 


ITALIAN  PAINTINGS. 


■».«' 


^■'.■f'- 


.1 


The  next  morning  we  resumed  our  journey,  and  travelling 
through  the  township  of  Clements,  and  crossing  Moose  and 
Bear  rivers,  reached  Digby  early  in  the  afternoon.  It  was  a 
most  delighJtful  drive.  When  we  left  Annapolis,  the  fog  was 
slowly  vising  from  the  low  grounds  and  resting  on  the  hills, 
to  gather  itself  up  for  a  flight  into  upper  air,  disclosing,  as  it 
departed,  ridge  after  ridge  of  the  Granville  Mountain,  which 
lay  concealed  in  its  folds,  and  gradually  revealing  the  broad 
and  beautiful  basin  that  extends  from  the  town  to  Digby. 

I  am  too  old  now  for  romance,  and,  what  is  worse,  I  am 
corpulent.  I  find,  as  I  grow  stout,  I  grow  less  imaginative. 
One  cannot  serve  two  masters.  I  longed  to  climb  the  moun- 
lain-peak,  to  stand  where  Champlain  stood,  and  imagine  the 
scene  as  it  then  was,  when  his  prophetic  eye  caught  revela- 
tions of  the  future ;  to  visit  the  holy  well  where  the  rite  of 
baptism  was  first  performed  in  these  provinces ;  to  trace  the 
first  encampments, — the  ruins  of  the  rude  fortifications, — the 
first  battle-ground.  But,  alas  !  the  day  is  gone.  I  must  leave 
the  field  to  more  youthful  competitors.  I  can  gratify  my  eye 
as  I  drive  along  the  road,  but  I  must  not  venture  into  the  for- 
est.   The  natural   ice-house, — the  cascade, — the    mountain 


*m 


ITALIAN   PAIffTINOfi. 


m 


lake,—- the  beaver's  dam, — the  General's  bridge, — ^the  apocry- 
phal Rosignol, — thg  iron-mines, — and  last,  not  least,  the  In- 
dian antiquities, — in  short,  each  and  all  of  the  lions  of  this 
interesting  place,  that  require  bodily  exertion  to  be  seen, — I 
leave  to  succeeding  travellers.  I  visit  men,  and  not  places. 
Alas !  has  it  come  to  this  at  laaty — to  gout  and  port  wine  1 
Be  it  so : — I  will  assume  the  privilege  of  old  age,  and  talk. 

At  a  short  distance  from  the  town  of  Annapolis,  we  passed 
the  Court  House,  the  scene  of  Mr.  Slick's  adventures  the  pre- 
ceding day,  and  found  a  crowd  of  country  people  about  the 
door.  More  than  a  hundred  horses  were  tied  to  the  fences  on 
either  side  of  the  road,  and  groups  of  idlers  were  seen  scat- 
tered about  on  the  lawn,  either  discussing  the  last  verdict,  or 
anticipating  the  jury  in  the  next.-,  j  - 

I  think,  said  Mr.  Slick,  we  have  a  right  to  boast  of  the  jus- 
ticiary of  our  two  great  nations ;  for  yourn  is  a  great  nation, 
— that  is  a  fact ;  and  if  all  your  colonies  were  joined  together, 
and  added  on  to  Old  England,  she  would  be  most  as  great  a 
nation  as  ourn.  You  have  good  reason  to  be  proud  of  your 
judiciary,  said  I ;  if  profound  learning,  exalted  talent,  and  in- 
flexible integrity  can  make  an  establishment  respectable,  the 
Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  is  pre-eminently  so ;  and 
I  have  heard,  from  those  who  have  the  honour  of  their  ac- 
quaintance, that  the  judges  are  no  less  distinguished  for  their 
private  worth  than  their  public  virtues.  I  rejoice  that  it  is  so,  ■ 
for  I  consider  the  justiciary  of  America  as  its  sheet-anchor. 
Amidst  the  incessant  change  of  men  and  institutions  so  con- 
spicuous there,  this  forms  a  solitary  exception.  To  the  per- 
manency and  extensive  power  of  this  court  you  are  indebted 
for  the  only  check  you  possess,  either  to  popular  tumult  or 
arbitrary  power,  affording,  as  it  does,  the  only  effectual  means 
of  controlling  the  conflicts  of  the  local  and  general  govern- 
ments, and  rendering  their  movements  regular  and  harmo- 
nious. 

It  is  so,  said  he ;  but  your  courts  and  ourn  are  both  tarred 
with  the  same  stick, — they  move  too  slow.  1  recollect,  once  I 
was  in  Old  Kentuck,  and  a  judge  was  sentencin'  a  man  to 
death  for  murder :  says  he,  "  Sooner  or  later,  punishment  is 
sure  to  overtake  the  guilty  man.  The  law  moves  slow,  but  it 
is  sure  and  sartain.  Justice  has  been  represented  with  a  heel 
of  lead,  from  its  slow  and  measured  pace ;  but  its  hand  is  a 
hand  of  iron,  and  its  blow  is  death."  Folks  said  it  was  a 
beautiful  idea  that,  and  every  chap  that  you  met  said.  Ain't 


i 


THE   CLOCKMAKIR.  H 

that  splendid  7 — did  ever  old  Mansfield  or  Ellen  Borough  coma 
up  to  that  ? 

Well,  says  I,  they  might  come  up  to  that,  and  not  go  very 
far  neither.  A  funny  sort  o^  figure  of  justice  that ;  when  it's 
so  plaguy  heavy-heeled,  most  any  one  can  outrun  it;  and 
when  its  great  iron  hbt  strikes  so  uncommon  slow,  a  chap 
that's  any  way  spry  is  e'en  a'most  sure  to  give  it  the  dodge. 
No ;  they  ought  to  clap  on  more  steam.  The  French  courts 
are  the  courts  for  me.  I  had  a  casQ  once  in  Marsailles,  and 
if  the  judge  didn't  turn  it  out  of  hand  ready  hooped  and 
headed  in  less  than  no  time,  it's  a  pity.  But  I  believe  1  must 
first  tell  you  how  I  came  for  to  go  there. 

In  the  latter  eend  of  the  year  twenty-eight,  I  think  it  wasj 
if  my  memory  sarves  me,  I  was  in  my  little  back  studio  to 
Slickville,  with  off  coat,  apron  on,  and  sleeves  up,  as  busy  as 
a  bee,  abronzin'  and  gildin'  of  a  clock  case,  when  old  Snow, 
the  nigger-help,  popped  in  his  head  in  a  most  a  terrible  of  a 
"'^nfiustrigation,  and  says  he,  master,  says  he,  if  there  ain't 
iiiiiasa  Governor  and  the  Gineral  at  the  door,  as  I'm  alive ! 
what  or  '  -th  shall  I  nay  ?  Well,  says  I,  they  have  caught 
me  at  a  nOii»plush,  that'a  sartain ;  but  there's  no  help  for  it  as 
I  see, — shew  'em  in.  Mornin',  says  I,  gentlemen,  how  do 
you  do?  I  am  sorry,  says  I,  I  didn't  know  of  this  pleasure 
in  time  to  have  received  you  respectfully.  You  have  taken 
me  at  a  short,  that's  :■  "act;  and  the  worst  of  it  is, — I  can't 
shake  hands  along  with  you  neither,  for  one  hand,  you  see,  is 
all  covered  with  isle,  and  t'other  with  copper  bronze.  Don't 
mention  it,  Mr.  Slick,  said  his  excellency,  I  beg  of  you  ; — the 
fine  arts  do  sometimes  require  detergants,  and  there  is  no  help 
for  it.  But  that's  a  most  a  beautiful  thing,  said  he,  you  are 
adoin'  of;  may  I  presume  to  chatichise  what  it  is?  Why, 
said  I,  governor,  that  landscape  on  the  right,  with  the  great 
white  two-story  house  in  it,  havin'  a  washin'  tub  of  apple 
sarce  on  one  side  and  a  cart  chockfull  of  punkin  pies  on 
t'other,  with  the  gold  letters  A.  P.  over  it,  is  intended  to  repre- 
sent this  land  of  promise,  our  great  country,  Amerika ;  and 
the  gold  letters  A.  P.  initialise  it  Airthly  Paradise.  Well,  says 
he,  who  is  that  he  one  on  the  left  ? — I  didn't  intend  them  let- 
ters H  and  E  to  indicate  he  at  all,  said  I,  tho'  I  see  now  they 
do ;  I  guess  I  must  alter  that.  That  tall  graceful  figur',  says 
I,  with  wings,  carryin'  a  long  Bowie  knife  in  his  right  hand, 
and  them  small  winged  figures  in  the  rear,  with  little  rifles, 


iTALiAir  PAiirTiiros. 


# 


HandE 


are  angels  emigratin'  from  heaven  to  this  country, 
means  heavinly  emigrants. 

Its  alle — go—vy. — And  a  beautiful  alle — go — ry  it  is,  said 
he,  and  well  calculated  to  give  forei^iers  a  correct  notion  of 
our  young  growin'  and  great  i^epublic.  It  is  a  fine  conception 
that.'  It  is  worthy  of  West.  How  true  to  life — how  much  it 
conveys — how  many  chords  it  strikes.  It  addresses  the  heart 
— it's  splendid. 

Hallo!  says  I  to  myself,  what's  all  this?  It  made  me  look 
up  at  him.  Thinks  I  to  myself,  you  laid  that  soft  sawder  on 
pretty  thick  anyhow.  I  wonder  whether  you  are  in  rael  right 
down  airnest,  or  whether  you  are  only  arter  a  vote.  Says  he, 
Mr.  Slick,  it  was  on  the  subject  of  pictur's,  we  called.  It's  a 
thing  I'm  enthusiastic  upon  myself;  but  my  official  duties 
leave  me  no  time  to  fraternise  with  the  brush.  I've  been 
actilly  si'i  weeks  adoin'  of  a  bunch  of  grapes  on  a  chair,  and 
it's  not  yet  done.  The  department  of  paintin'  in  our  Athe- 
neum, — in  this  risin'  and  flourishin'  town  of  Slickville — is 
placed  under  the  direction  of  the  general  and  myself,  and  we 
propose  detailing  you  to  Italy  to  purchase  some  originals  for 
our  gallery,  seein'  that  you  are  a  native  artist  yourself,  and 
have  more  practical  experience  than  moat  of  our  citizens. 
There  is  a  great  aspiration  among  our  free  and  enlightened 
youth  for  perfection,  whether  in  the  arts  or  sciences.  Your 
expenses  will  be  paid,  and  eight  dollars  a  day  while  absent  on 
this  diplomacy.  One  thing,  however,  do  pray  remember,— 
dont  bring  any  pictur's  that  will  evoke  a  blush  on  female 
cheeks,  or  cause  vartue  to  stand  afore  'em  with  averted  eyes 
or  indignant  looks.  The  statues  imported  last  year  we  had 
to  clothe,  both  male  anfl  female,  from  head  to  foot,  for  they 
actilly  came  stark  naked,  and  were  right  down  ondecent.'  One 
of  my  factory  ladies  went  into  fits  on  seein'  'em,  that  lasted 
her  a  good  hour ;  she  took  Jupiter  for  a  rael  human,  and  said 
she  thought  she  had  got  into  a  bathin'  room  among  the  men 
by  mistake.  Her  narves  received  a  heavy  shock,  poor  critter; 
she  said  she  never  would  forget  what  she  seed  there  the  long- 
est day  she  lived.  So  none  o'  your  Potiphar's  wives,  or  Su- 
sannahs, or  sleepin'  Venuses;  such  pictur's  are  repugnant  to 
the  high  tone  o'  moral  feelin'  in  this  country. 

Oh  Lord  !  I  thought  I  should  have  split ;  I  darsn't  look  up, 

for  fear  I  should  abust  out  a  larfin'  in  his  face,  to  hear  him 

talk  so  spooney  aboijt  that  are  factory  gall.     Thinks  I  to 

myself,  how  delicate  she  is,  ain't  she !     If  a  common  marble 

8* 


00 


THB   CLOOKMAKXR. 


statue  threw  her  into  AtR,  what  would 


And  here  he 


i  t 


I 


laughed  so  immoderately  it  was  some  time  before  he  resumed 
intelligibly  his  story. 

Well,  says  he  at  last,  if  there  is  one  thing  I  hate  more  nor 
another  it  is  that  cussed  mock  modesty  some  galls  have,  pfe- 
tendin'  they  don't  know  nothin'.  It  always  shows  they  know 
too  much.  Now,  says  his  excellency,  a  pictur',  Mr.  Slick, 
may  exhibit  great  skill  and  great  beauty,  and  yet  display  very 
little  flesh  beyond  the  face  and  the  hands.  You  apprehend 
me,  don't  you  ?  A  nod's  as  good  as  a  wink,  says  I,  to  a  blind 
horse ;  if  I  can't  see  thro'  a  ludder,  I  reckon  I'm  not  fit  for 
that  mission ;  and,  says  I,  though  I  say  it  myself,  that 
shouldn't  say  it,  I  must  say,  I  do  account  myself  a  consider- 
*».bb  of  a  judge  of  these  matters, — I  won't  turn  my  back  on 
any  one  in  my  line  in  the  Union.  I  think  so,  said  he,  liie 
alle — go — ry  you  jist  show'd  me  displays  taste,  tact,  and  a 
consummate  knowledge  of  the  art.  Without  genius  there  can 
be  no  invention, — no  plot  without  skill,  and  no  character  with- 
out the  power  of  discrimination.  I  should  like  to  associate 
with  you  Etten^zer  Peck,  the  Slickville  Poet,  in  this  diplomatic 
mission,  if  our  funds  authorized  the  exercise  of  this  constitu- 
tional power  of  the  executive  committee,  for  the  fine  arts  are 
closely  allied,  Mr.  Slick.  Poetry  is  the  music  of  words,  music 
is  the  poetry  of  sounds,  and  paintin'  is  the  poetry  of  colours ; 
— what  a  sweet,  interestin'  family  they  b',  ain't  they?  We 
must  locate,  domesticate,  acclimate,  and  fraternate  them  among 
us.  Conceivin'  an  elective  governor  of  a  free  and  enlightened 
people  to  rank  before  an  hereditary  prince,  I  have  given  you 
letters  of  introduction  to  the  jEvetalian  princes  and  the  Pope, 
and  have  oflfered  to  reciprocate  their  attention  should  they  visit 
Slickville.  Farewell,  my  friend,  farev/ell,  and  fail  not  to  sus- 
tain the  dignity  of  this  great  and  enlightened  nation  abroad — 
farewell  1 

A  very  good  man,  the  governor,  and  a  genuw;tnc  patriot  too, 
said  Mr.  Slick.  He  knowed  a  good  deal  about  paintin',  for 
he  was  a  sign  painter  by  trade ;  but  he  often  used  to  wade  out 
too  deep,  and  got  over  his  head  now  and  then  afore  he  knowed 
it.  He  warn't  the  best  o'  swimmers  neither,  and  sometimes  I 
used  to  bo  scared  to  death  for  fear  he'd  go  for  it  afore  he'd 
touch  bottom  ag'in.  Well,  off  I  sot  in  a  vessel  to  Leghorn, 
and  I  laid  out  there  three  thousand  dollars  in  pictur's.  Rum- 
lookin'  old  cocks  them  saints,  some  on  'em  too,  with  their  long 
beards,  bald  heads,  and  hard  featur's,  bean't  they  1  but  I  got 


a 

cal 

chi 

go^ 

sei 


ITALIAir   PAINTINGS.  iS 

a  lot  of  'em  of  all  rizes.  I  bought  two  madonnas  I  think  they 
call  them — beautiful  little  pictures  they  were  too, — but  tho 
child's  legs  were  so  naked  and  ondecent,  that  to  please  the 
governor  and  his  factory  galls,  I  had  an  artist  to  paint  trou- 
sers,  and  a  pair  of  lace  boots  on  him,  and  they  look  quite 
genteel  now.  It  improved  'em  amazin'ly ;  but  the  best  o'  the 
joke  was  those  Blacaroni  rascals,  seein'  me  a  stranger,  thought 
to  do  me  nicely  (most  infarnal  cheats  them  dealers  too, — walk 
right  into  you  afore  you  know  where  you  be.)  The  older  a 
pictur'  was  and  the  more  it  was  blacked,  so  you  couldn't  see 
the  figur's,  the  more  they  axed  for  it ;  and  they'd  talk  an't 
jabber  away  about  their  Tittyan  tints  and  Guido  airs  by  tho 
hour.  How  soil  are  we,  ain't  we?  said  I.  Catch  a  weasel 
asleep,  will  you  ?  Second-hand  farniture  don't  suit  our  mar- 
ket. We  want  pictur's,  and  not  things  that  look  a  plaguy 
sight  more  like  the  shutters  of  an  old  smokehouse  than 
paintin's,  and  I  hope  I  may  be  shot  if  I  didn't  get  brun  new 
ones  for  half  the  price  they  asked  for  them  rusty  old  veterans. 
Our  folks  were  well  pleased  a\  ith  the  shipment,  and  I  ought  to 
be  too,  for  I  made  a  trifle  in  the  discount  of  fifteen  per  cent, 
for  comin'  down  handsom'  with  the  cash  on  the  spot.  Our 
Atheneum  is  worth  see.  a'  I  tell  you  ;  you  wont  ditto  it  eaay» 
I  know ;  it's  actilly  a  sight  to  behold.  <     ./^t-^iw 

But  1  was  agoin'  to  tell  you  about  the  French  court.  Arter 
I  closed  the  consarn  about  the  pictur's,  and  shipped  'em  oiT 
in  a  Cape  Codder  that  was  there,  I  fell  in  w.th  some  of  our 
folks  on  their  way  to  London,  where  I  had  to  go  to  afore  I 
returned  home ;  so,  says  I,  s'pose  we  hire  a  vessel  in  Co.  and 
go  by  water  to  Marsailles ;  vc'U  get  on  faster  and  considerable 
cheaper  too,  I  calculate,  than  agoin'  by  land.  Well,  w«»  hired 
an  £i/etaliano  to  take  us,  and  he  was  to  find  us  in  bed,  board, 
and  liquor,  and  we  paid  him  one-third  in  advance,  to  enable 
him  to  do  it  genteel ;  but  the  everlastin'  villain,  as  soon  as  he 
got  us  out  to  sea,  gave  us  no  bed-clothes  and  nothin'  to  eat, 
and  we  almost  perished  with  hunger  and  damp,  so  when  we 
got  to  Marsailles,  Meo  friendo,  says  I,  for  I  had  picked  up  a 
little  JSyetalian,  meo  friendo,  ctimma  longo  alia  courto,  will 
you  ?  and  I  took  him  by  the  scruff  of  the  nee.  and  toated 
him  into  court.  Where  is  de  pappia?  says  a  little  ski[)-jack 
of  a  French  judge,  that  was  chock  full  of  grins  and  grimaces 
like  a  monkey  arter  a  pinch  of  snuff, — where  is  de  pappia  ? 
So  I  handed  him  up  the  pappia  signed  by  the  master,  and  then 
proved  how  he  cheated  us.     No  sooner  said  than  done,  Mount 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  873-4501 


'%'• 


0 


93 


THE  CLOCKMAKER. 


1^, 


Sheat  Buli-ffDg,  gave  the  case  in  our  favour  in  two-twoeSf 
said  £yetaliano  had  got  too  much  already,  cut  him  off  the 
other  two-thirds,  and  made*  him  pay  all  costs.  If  ho  didnH 
look  bumsquabbled  it's  a  pity.  It  took  the  rust  off  of  him 
pretty  slick,  you  may  depend. 

fiegar,  he  says  to  the  skipper,  you  keep  de  bargain  next 
time ;  you  von  very  grand  damne  rogue,  and  he  shook  his 
head  and  grinned  like  a  crocodile,  from  ear  to  ear,  all  mouth 
and  teeth.  You  may  depend,  I  warn't  long  in  Marsailles  arter 
that.  I  cut  stick  and  off,  hot  foot  for  the  channel,  without 
stopping  to  water  the  horses  or  liquor  the  drivers,  for  fear 
JS^etaliano  would  walk  into  my  ribs  with  his  stiletto,  for  he 
was  as  savage  as  a  white  bear  afore  breakfast.  Yes,  our 
courts  move  too  slow.  It  was  that  ruinated  Expected  Thorne. 
The  first  time  he  was  taken  up  and  sent  to  jail,  he  was  as 
innocent  as  a  child,  but  they  kept  him  there  so  long  afore  his 
trial,  it  broke  his  spirits,  and  broke  his  pride, — and  he  came 
out  as  wicked,  as  a  devil.  The  great  secret  is  speedy  justice* 
We  have  too  much  machinery  in  our  courts,  and  I  don't  see 
but  what  we  pri^  juries  beyond  their  rael  valy.  One  half  the 
time  with  us  they  don't  onderstand  a  thing,  and  the  other  half 
they  are  prejudiced.  True,  said  I,  but  they  <are  a  great  safe- 
guard to  liberty,  and  indeed  the  only  one  in  all  cases  between 
the  government  and  the  people.  The  executive  can  never 
tyrannize  where  they  cannot  convict,  and  juries  never  lend 
themselves  to  oppression.  Tho'  a  corrupt  minister  may 
appoint  corrupt  judges,  he  can  never  corrupt  a  whole  people. 
Well,  said  he,  far  be  it  from  me  (o  say  they  are  no  use, 
because  I  know  and  feel  that  they  are  in  sartain  cases  most 
invaluable,  but  I  mean  to  say  that  they  are  only  a  drag  on 
business,  and  an  expensive  one  too,  one  half  tl  )  time.  I 
want  no  better  tribunal  to  try  me  or  my  cases  than  our 
supreme  judges  to  Washington,  and  all  I  would  ax  is  a 
resarved  right  to  have  a  jury  when  I  call  for  one.  That 
right  I  never  would  yield,  but  that  is  all  I  would  ax.  You 
can  see  how  the  lawyers  valy  each  by  the  way  they  talk  to 
'em.  To  the  court  they  are  as  cool  cucumbers,— -dry  argu- 
ment, sound  reasonin',  an  application  to  judgment.  To  the 
jury,  all  fire  and  tow  and  declamations, — all  to  tho  passions, 
prejudices,  an'  feelin's.  The  one  they  try  to  convince,  they 
try  to  do  the  other.  I  never  hcerd  tell  of  judges  chalkin'.  I 
know  brother  Josiah  the  lawyer  thinks  so  too.     Says  he  to 


iX)?*'>)^t't«'    -: 


SHAMFOOma  THB   KNOLISH. 


93 


me,  once,  Sam,  says  he,  they  ain't  suited  to  the  times  now 
in  all  cases,  and  are  only  needed  occasionally.  When  Juriea 
firtt  come  into  vogue  there  were  no  judges,  but  the  devil  of  it 
IS  when  public  opinion  runs  all  one  way,  in  this  country,  you 
might  just  as  well  try  to  swim  up  Niagara  as  to  go  for  to  stem 
itf— it  will  roll  you  over  and  over,  and  squash  you  to  death  at 
last.  You  may  say  what  you  like  here,  Sam,  but  other  folks 
may  do  what  they  like  here  too.  Many  a  man  has  had  a 
goose's  jacket  lined  with  tar  here,  that  he  never  bought  at 
the  tailor's,  and  a  tight  fit  it  is  too,  considerin'  its  made 
without  measurin'.  So  as  I'm  for  Congress  some  day  or 
another,  why,  I  gist  fall  to  and  flatter  the  people  by  chimin'  in 
with  them.  I  get  up  on  a  stump,  or  the  top  of  a  whiskey 
barrel,  and  talk  as  big  as  any  on  'em  about  that  birth-right— 
that  sheet  anchor,  that  mainstay,  that  blessed  shield,  that 
glorious  institution — ^the  rich  man's  terror,  the  poor  man's 
hope,  the  people's  pride,  the  nation's  glory — Trial  hy  Jury, 


'4  ■ '  .  ^f^'kiW^V'^!'^^- 


.,„.,._  ......  im:%'iSi^i0>/.^'' 

t^  ■^e'i^pw*4:tvCH AFTER  XII.      ■?f:«^-.?v' 


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■*"■.. 


'^■i»^^aii..^-Jtii4Jt,.'''^ 


SHAMPOOING  IHE  ENGLISH. 


'^'  BiOBT  is  a  charming  little  town.  It  is  the  Brighton  of  Nova 
Scotia,  the  resort  of  the  valetudinarians  of  New  Brunswick, 
who  take  refuge  here  from  the  unrelenting  fogs,  hopeless  ste- 
rility, and  calcareous  waters  of  St.  John.  About  as  pretty  a 
location  this  for  business,  said  the  Clockmakor,  as  I  know  on 
in  tj>is  country.  Bigby  is  the  only  safe  harbour  from  Blow- 
medown  to  Briar  Island.  Then  there  is  that  everlastin'  long 
river  runnin'  away  up  from  the  wharves  here  almost  across 
to  Minas  Basin,  bordered  with  dikes  and  interval,  and  backed 
up  by  good  upland.  A  nice,  dry,  pleasant  place  for  a  town, 
with  good  water,  good  air,  and  the  best  herrin'  fishery  in 
America,  but  it  wants  one  thing  to  make  it  go  ahead.  And 
pray  what  is  that  ?  said  I,  for  it  appears  to  me  to  have  every 
Natural  advantage  that  can  be  desired.  It  wants  to  be  made 
a  free  port,  said  he.  They  ought  to  send  a  delegate  to  Eng- 
land about  it ;  but  the  fact  is,  they  don't  onderstand  diplomacy 
here,  nor  the  English  either.  They  hav'n't  got  no  talents  that 
way. 


f^ri. 


.'-  •! 


04 


THE  CLOOKJfAiUBR.^#,-»^' 


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I 

J, 

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t 

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i 

I  gueM  we  may  stump  the  univarse  in  that  line.  Our 
Btktesmen,  I  consait,  do  onderstaod  it.  They  go  about  so 
beautifully,  tack  so  well,  sail  so  close  by  the  wind,  make  so 
little  lee-way,  shoot  ahead  so  fast,  draw  so  little  water,  kisep 
the  lead  agoin*  constant,  and  a  bright  look-out  a-head  always ; 
it's  very  seldom  you  hear  o'  them  runnin*  aground,  I  tell  you. 
Hardly  any  thing  they  take  in  hand  they  don*t  succeed  in.. 
How  glib  they  are  in  the  tongue  too  I  how  they  do  lay  in  the 
soft  sawder  ?  They  do  rub  John  Bull  down  so  pretty,  it  does 
one  good  to  see  'em :  they  pat  him  on  the  back,  and  stroke 
him  on  the  cheek,  and  coax  and  wheedle  and  flatter,  till  they 
get  him  as  good-natured  as  pbssible.  Then  they  gist  get  what 
they  like  out  of  him ;  not  a  word  of  a  threat  to  Kim  tho',  for 
they  know  it  won't  do.  Hee'd  as  soon  fight  as  eat  hi^  dinner, 
and  sooner  too,  but  they  tickle  him,  as  the  boys  at  Cape  Ann 
sarve  the  bladder  fish.  There's  a  fish  comes  ashore  there  at 
ebb  tide,  that  the  boys  catch  and  tickle,  and  the  more  they 
tickle  him  the  more  he  fills  with  wind.  Well,  he  get's  blowed 
up  as  full  as  h^  can  hold,  and  then  they  just  turn  him  up  and 
give  him  a  crack  across  the  belly  with  a  stick,  and  off  he  goes 
like  a  pop-gun,  and  then  all  the  little  critters  run  hoopin'  and 
hoUowin'  like  ra'^  Li'  distracted  mad — so  pleased  with  foolin' 
the  old  fish. 

There  are  no  people  in  the  univarsal  world  so  eloquent  as 
the  Americans ;  they  beat  the  ancients  all  hollor ;  and  when 
our  diplomatists  go  for  to  talk  it  into  the  British,  they  do  it  so 
pretty,  it's  a  sight  to  behold.  Descended,  they  say,  from  a 
common  stock,  havin'  one  common  language,  and  a  commU' 
nity  of  interests,  they  cannot  but  hope  for  justice  from  a 
power  distinguished  alike  for  its  honour  and  its  generosity. 
Indebted  to  them  for  the  spirit  of  liberty  they  enjoy, — for  their 
laws,  literature,  and  religion, — they  feel  more  like  allies  than 
aliens,  and  more  like  relatives  than  either.  Though  unfor- 
tunate occurrences  may  have  drawn  them  asunder,  with  that 
frankness  and  generosity  peculiar  to  a  brave  and  generous 
people,  both  nations  have  now  forgotten  and  forgiven  the  past, 
and  it  is  the  duty  and  interest  of  each  to  cultivate  these  ami- 
cable relations,  now  so  happily  existing,  and  to  draw  closer 
those  bonds  which  unite  two  people  essentially  the  same  in 
habits  and  feeliugs.  Though  years  have  rollfed  by  since  they 
leit  the  paternal  roof,  and  the  ocean  divides  them,  yet  they 
cannot  but  look  back  at  the  home  l}eyond  the  waters  with  a 
grateful  remembrance — with  veneration  and  respect. 


SHAMPOOING  THE  BKOLISH. 


1 1 


05 


Now  that^s  what  I  call  dictionary,  said  the  Clockmaker. 
It's  splendid  penmanship,  ain't  it?  When  John  Adams  was 
minister  at  the  Court  of  St.  Jimes's,  how4iis  weak  eye  would 
have  sarved  him  autterin'  off  this  galbanum,  wouldn't  it? 
He'd  turn  round  to  hide  emotion,  draw  forth  his  handkerchief 
and  wipe  off  a  manly  tear  of  genutcine  feelin'.  It  is  easy 
enough  to  stand  a  woman's  tears,  for  they  weep  like  children, 
everlastin'  sun  showers ;  they  cry  as  bad  as  if  they  used  a 
chc3snut  burr  for  an  eyestone ;  but  to  see  the  tear  drawn  from 
the  starn  natur'  of  man,  startin'  at  the  biddin'  of  generous 
feelin',  there's  no  standin'  that.  Oh  dear  I  how  John  Bull 
swallers  this  soft  sawder,  don't  he?  I  think  I  see  him 
astandin'  with  his  hands  in  his  trousers-pockets,  alookin'  as 
big  as  all  out-doors,  and  as  sour  as  cider  sot  out  in  the  sun  for 
vinegar.  At  first  he  looks  suspicious  and  sulky,  and  then  one 
hauty  frown  relaxes,  and  then  another,  and  so  on,  till  all 
stamness  is  gone,  and  his  whole  face  wears  one  great  benev- 
olent expression,  like  a  full  moon,  till  you  can  eye  him  with- 
out winkin',  and  lookin'  about  as  intelligent  all  the  time  as  a 
skim-milk  cheese.  Arter  his  stare  is  gone,  a  kind  o'  look 
comes  over  his  face  as  if  he  thought,  Well,  now,  this  d  d 
Yankey  sees  his  error  at  last,  and  no  mistake ;  that  comes  o' 
that  good  lickin'  I  give  him  last  war :  there's  nothin'  like 
fightin'  things  out.  The  critter  seems  humble  enough  now 
tho' ;  give  me  your  fist,  Jonathan,  my  boy,  says  he ;  don't 
look  so  cussed  cQsmal :  what  is  it  ? 

Oh,  nothin',  says  our  diplomatist ;  a  mere  trifle,  and  he 
tries  to  look  as  onconcarned  as  possible  all  the  time ;  nothin* 
but  what  your  sense  of  justice,  for  which  you  are  always  dis- 
tinguished, will  grant ;  a  little  strip  of  land,  half  fog  half  bog, 
atween  the  State  of  Maine  and  New  Brunswick ;  it's  nothin' 
but  wood,  water,  and  snakes,  and  no  bigger  than  Scotland. 
Take  it,  and  say  no  more  about  it,  says  John ;  I  hope  it  will 
be  accepted  as  a  proof  of  my  regard.  I  don't  think  nothin'  of 
half  a  colony.  And  then  when  our  chap  gets  home  to  the 
President,  doesn't  he  say,  as  Expected  Thome  did  of  the  Blue- 
nose  jury,  "  Didn't  I  do  him  pretty  ?  cuaa  himf  thafa  aU." 

Then  he  takes  Mount-Sheer  on  another  tack.  He  desires 
to  express  the  gratitude  of  a  free  and  enlightened  people  to 
the  French, — their  first  ally,  their  dearest  friend, — for  ena- 
blin'  them  under  Providence,  to  lay  the  foundation-stone  of 
their  country.    They  never  can  forget  how  kindly,  how  dia  ■ 


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A 


■t  i 


h 


^;       THB  OLOGXMAXIE. 


i 


iniere^etUfft  they  stept  in  to  aid  their  infant  ■tnigglet,'— to 
luust  them  to  resist  the  unnatural  tyranny  of  England,  who, 
while  afl^tin'  to  protect  liberty  abroad,  was  enslavin*  her 
children  to  home.  Nothin'  but  the  purest  feelin*,  unalloyed 
by  any  jealousy  of  England,  dictated  that  step ;  it  emanated 
from  a  virtuous  indignation  at  seein*  the  strong  oppress  the 
weak, — from  a  love  of  constitutional  freedom,— -from  pure 
philanthropy.  How  deeply  is  seated  in  American  breasts  a 
veneration  of  the  French  character !  how  they  admire  their 
sincerity  ;  their  good  faith ;  their  stability  I  Well  may  they 
be  called  the  Grand  Nation !  Religious,  not  bigoted ;  brave, 
not  rash ;  dignified,  not  volatile ;  great,  yet  not  vain  i  Mag- 
nanimous in  success, — cheerful  and  resolved  under  reverses, 
—•they  form  the  beau  ideal  to  American  youth,  who  are 
taught  in  their  first  lessons,  to  emulate,  and  imitate,  and  vene- 
rate the  virtues  of  their  character  I  Don't  it  run  off  the 
tongue  like  oil  ?    Sofl  and  slick,  ainU  it  pretty  talk  ? 

Lord !  how  Mount*Sheer  skips,  and  hops,  and  bows,  and 
smirks,  when* he  hears  that  are,  don't  he?  How  he  claps  his 
hand  upon  his  heart,  and  makes  faces  like  a  monkey  that's 
got  a  oain  in  his  side  from  swallowin'  a  nut  without  crackin* 
it.  With  all  other  folks,  but  these  great  powers,  it's  a  very 
different  tune  they  sing.  They  make  short  metre  with  them 
little  powers ;  they  never  take  the  trouble  to  talk  much ;  they 
gist  make  their  demands,  and  ax  them  for  their  answer,  right 
off  the  reel.  If  they  say,  let  us  hear  your  reasons, — Oh,  by 
all  means,  says  our  diplomatist,  just  come  along  with  mo ;  and 
he  takes  the  minister  under  his  arm,  walks  lock  and  lock  with 
him  down  to  the  harbour,  claps  him  aboard  a  barge,  and  rows 
him  off  to  one  of  our  little  hundred-gun  sloops  of  war.  Pretty 
little  sloop  o'  war,  that  of  ourn,  I  reckon,  ain't  it  ?  says  he 
Oh  1  very  pretty,  very  pretty  indeed,  says  foreigner ;  but  if 
that  be  your  little  sloop,  what  must  be  your  great  big  men  o' 
war  i  That's  just  what  I  was  agoin'  for  to  say,  says  Jona- 
than,— a  Leviathan,  a  Mammoth,  blow  all  creation  to  atoms 
a'most,  like  a  hurricane  tipt  with  lightning,  and  then  he  looks 
up  to  the  captain  and  nods.  Says  he,  Captain,  I  guess  you 
may  run  out  your  guns,  and.  he  runs  them  out  as  quick  as 
wink.  These  are  my  reasons,  says  Jonathan,  and  pretty 
strong  arguments,  too,  I  guess  ;  that's  what  I  call  showin'  our 

teeth ;  and  now  you,  nuster,  with  a  d n  hard  name,  your 

answer,  if  you  please.    Ypu  don't  understand  us,  I  see,  fbr- 


i 


en  he  looks 


SHAMPOOIiro   THE  BITOLISH.  §1 

eiffner ;  we  act  chaps  in  our  country  that  can  stand  o(i  <Mie 
side  of  the  Mississippi,  and  kill  a  racoon  on  t'other  side  with 
a  sneeze, — ^rigular -nng>tail  roarers;  don't  provoke  us;  it 
wouldn't  be  over  safe,  I  assure  you.  We  can  out  talk  thun- 
der, outrun  a  flash  of  lightnin',  apd  outreach  all  the  world — we 
can  whip  our  weight  of  wild<cats.  The  British  can  lick  bU 
the  world,  and  we  can  lick  the  British.  I  believe,  I  believe, 
says  he,  and  he  claps  his  name  to  the  treaty  in  no  time.  We 
made  these  secondoclass  gentry  shell  out  a  considerable  of 
cash,  these  few  years  past,  on  one  excuse  or  another,  and 
frightened  some  on  them,  as  the  naked  statue  did  the  factory^, 
gall,  into  fits  a'most.  But  the  English  we  have  to  soil  saw- 
der, for  they've  got  little  sloops  o'  war,  too,  as  well  as  we 
have ;  and  not  only  show  their  teeth,  but  bite  like  bulUdogs. 
We  shampoo  them, — you  know  what  shampooing  is,  squire, 
don't  you  ?  It  is  an  Eastern  custom,  I  think,  said  I :  I  have 
heard  of  it,  but  I  do  not  retain  a  very  distinct  recollection  of 
the  practice.  Well,  said  the  Clockmaker,  I  estimate  I'  ought 
to  know  what  it  means  any  how ;  for  I  came  plaguy  nigh 
losin'  my  life  by  it  once.  When  I  was  gist  twenty  years  old,* 
[  took  it  into  my  head  I'd  like  to  go  to  sea, — so  father  got  me 
a  berth  of  supercargo  of  a  whaler  at  New  Bedford,  and  away 
we  went  arter  sperm :  an  amazin'  long  voyage  we  had  of  it 
too— gone  nearly  three  years.  Well,  we  put  into  SandMrich 
Island  for  refreshments ;  and  says  the  captain,  'Spose  we  go 
and  call  on  the  queen !  So  all  us  cabin  party  went  and 
dressed  ourselves  up  full  fig,  and  were  introduced  in  due  form 
to  the  young  queen.  Well,  she  was  a  rael,  right  down,  pretty 
lookin'  heifer,  and  no  mistake ;  well  dressed  and  well  demean- 
ed, and  a  plaguy  sight  clearer  skin'd  than  some  white  folks^- 
for  they  bathe  every  day  a'most.  Where  you'd  see  one  piece 
of  furniture  better  than  her,  you'll  see  filly  worser  ones,  / 
know.  -tsf^'ri^iV-"*^'^'^' 

What  is  your  father,  Mr.  Shleek?  says  she.  A  prince, 
marm,  said  I.  And  his'n,  ugly  man's  ?  says  she  pintin'  to  the 
captain.  A  prince  too,  said  I,  and  all  this  party  are  princes ; 
fathers  all  sovereigns  to  home — no  bigger  men  than  them, 
neither  there  nor  any  where  else  in  the  univarsal  wci'ld. 
Then,  said  she,  you  all  dine  wid  me  to-day  ;  me  proud  to 
have  de  prinches  to  my  table. 

If  she  didn't  give  us  a  rigular  blow-out,  it's  a  pity,  and  the 
whole  on  us  were  more  than  half-seas  over;  for  my  part,  the 
9 


^  •.  ■ 


.,.,^^-  :-.  "1.  r-ji ,,.    .; 


r  < 


^      THE   CLOCKMAK«<IU   l^ii.- 


\ 


m  T 


hot  n^ulled  wine  actilly  made  me  feel  iike  a  prince,  and  what 
put  me  in  tip-top  spirits  was  the  idee  of  the  hoax  I  played  off 
on  her  about  our  bein'  princes ;  and  then  my  rosy  cheeks  and 
youth  pleased  her  fancy,  so  that  she  was  onconimon  civik  to 
me— talked  to  no  one  else  almost.  Well,  when  we  rose  from 
table,  (for  she  stayed  there  till  the  wine  made  her  eyes  twinkle 
ag'in,)  prince  Shleek,  said  she,  atakin'  o'  my  hand,  and  put- 
tin'  her  saucy  little  mug  close  up  to  me,  (and  she  raelly  did 
look  pretty,  all  smiles  and  sweetness,)  Prince  Shleek,  will  you 
have  one  shampoo  ?  said  she.  A  shampoo  ?  said  I ;  to  be  sure 
|I  will,  and  thank  you  too ;  you  are  gist  the  gall  I'd  like  to 
shampoo,  and  I  clapt  my  arms  round  her  neck,  and  gave  her 
a  buss  that  made  all  ring  ag'in.  What  the  devil  are  you  at? 
said  the  captain,  and  he  seized  me  ^ound  the  waist  and  lugged 
me  off.  Do  you  want  to  lose  your  head,,  you  fool,  you  ?  said 
he;  you've  earned  this  joke  too  far  already,  without  this 
rompin' — go  aboard.  It  was  lucky  for  me  she  had  a  wee  drop 
in  her  eye,  herself — for  arter  the  first  scream,  she  lurfed  ready 
to  split :  says ^he.  No  kissy,  no  kissy — shampoo  is  shampoo; 
but  kissy  is  anoder  ting.  The  noise  brought  the  sarvants  in, 
and  says  the  queen,  p'inting  to  me,  "  shampoo  him" — and 
they  up  with  me,  and  into  another  room,  and  before  I  could 
say  JacI;  Robinson,  off  went  my  clothes,  and  I  was  gettin' 
shampoo'd  in  airnest.  It  is  done  by  a  gentle  pressure,  and 
rubbin'  all  over  the  body  with  the  hand ;  it  is  delightful — 
that's  a  fact,  and  I  was  soon  asleep. 

I  was  pretty  well  corned  that  arternoon,  but  still  I  knew 
what  I  was  about ;  and  recollected  when  I  awoke  the  whisper 
of  the  captain  at  partin' — "  Mind  your  eye.  Slick,  if  ever  you 
want  to  see  Cape  Cod  ag'in."  So,  airly  next  mornin',  while 
it  was  quite  moony  yet,  I  went  aboard,  and  the  captain  soon 
put  to  sea,  but  not  before  there  came  a  boat-load  of  pigs  and 
two  bullocks  off  to  "  Prince  Shleek."  So  our  diplomatists 
shampoo  the  English,  and  put  'em  to  sleep.  How  beautiful 
they  shampoo'd  them  in  the  fishery  story !  It  was  agreed  we 
was  to  fish  within  three  leagues  of  the  coast ;  but  then,  says 
Jonathan,  wood  and  water,  you  know,  and  shelter,  when  it 
'  blows  like  great  guns,  are  rights  of  hospitality.  You  wouldn't 
■  refuse  us  a  port  in  a  storm,  would  you  ?  so  noble,  so  humane, 
so  liberal,  so  confidin'  as  you  be.  Certainly  not,  says  John 
Bull ;  it  would  be  inhuman  to  refuse  either  shelter,  wood,  or 
water.    Well  then,  if  there  was  are  a  snug  little  cove  not  set- 


SRAMPOOlirO   THB   IITOLISR. 

tied,  disarted  like,  would  you  have  any  objection  to  our  drvin* 
our  fish  there? — they  might  spile,  you  know,  to  far  from 
home — a  little  act  of  kindness  like  that  would  bind  us  to  you 
foi  ever,  and  ever,  and  amen.  Certainly,  says  John,  it*s  very 
reasonable  that — you  are  perfectly  welcome — happy  to  oblige 
you.  It  was  all  we  wanted  an  excuse  for  enterin*,  and  now 
we  are  in  and  out  when  we  please,  and  smuggle  like  all  ven- 
geance :  got  the  whole  trade  and  the  whole  fishery.  It  was 
splendidly  done,  warn't  it? 

Well,  then,  we  did  manage  the  boundary  line  capitally  too* 
We  know  we  hav'nU  got  no  title  to  that  land — it  toamU  given 
to  us  by  the  treaty^  and  it  teartCt  in  our  potHBtion  when  we 
declared  independence  or  made  peace.  But  our  maxim  is,  it 
is  better  to  get  things  by  treaty  than  by  war ;  it  is  more  Chris- 
tian-like, and  more  intellectual.  To  gain  that  land,  we  asked 
the  navigation  of  the  St.  Lawrence  and  the  St.  John,  which 
we  knew  would  never  be  granted ;  but  then  it  gave  us  some- 
thin'  to  concede  on  our  part,  and  brag  on  as  liberal,  and  it  is 
nateral  and  right  for  the  English  to  concede  on  their  side 
somethin'  too> — so  they  will  concede  the  disputed  territory. 

Ah,  squire,  said  he,  your  countrymen  may  have  a  good 
heart,  and  I  believe  they  have ;  indeed,  it  would  be  strange'if 
a  full  puss  didnH  make  a  full  heart ;  but  they  have  a  most 
plaguy  poor-  head,  that's  a  fact.  This  was  rather  too  bad. 
To  be  first  imposed  upon  and  then  ridiculed,  was  paying 
rather  too  heavy  a  penalty  for  either  negligence  or  ignorance. 
There  was  unhappily  too  much  truth  in  the  remark  for  me  to 
join  in  the  laugh.  If  your  diplomatists,  said  I,  have  in  one  or 
two  instunces  been  successful  by  departing  from  the  plain  in- 
telligible path,  and  resorting  to  flattery  and  cunning,  (arts  in 
which  I  regret  to  say  diplomatists  of  all  nations  are  but  too 
apt  to  indulge,)  it  is  a  course  which  carries  its  own  cure ;  and, 
by  raising  suspicion  and  distrust,  will  hereafter  impose  diffi- 
culties in  their  way  even  when  their  objects  arc  legitimate  and 
just.  I  should  have  thought  that  the  lesson  read  on  a  cele- 
hrated  occasion  (which  you  doubtless  remember)  by  Mr.  Can- 
ning, would  have  dictated  the  necessity  of  caution  for  the 
future.  Recollect  that  confidence  once  withdrawn  is  seldom 
restored  again.  You  have,  however,  omitted  to  state  your 
policy  with  Russia.  Oh !  said  he.  Old  Nick  in  the  North  is 
sarved  in  the  same  way. 

Excuse  me,  sr.id  I,  (for  I  felt  piqued,)  but  if  you  will  per- 


I  .f:-ti.    ..•.Il>n 


r 


100 


THK  CLOOKMAKBR. 


:  i< 


I 


mit  me  I  will  suggest  some  observations  to  you  relative  to 
Russia  that  may  not  have  occurred  to  you.  Your  diplo- 
matists might  address  the  Emperor  thus :  May  it  please  your 
Majesty,  th^re  is  an  astonishing  resemblance  between  our  tNvo 
countries;  in  fact  there  is  little  or  no  difierence  except  in 
name,— 4he  same  cast  of  countenance,  same  family-likeness, 
same  Tartar  propensity  to  change  abode.  All  extremes  meet. 
You  take  off  folk's  heads  without  law,  so  do  our  mobs.  You 
send  fellows  to  Siberia,  our  mobs  send  them  to  the  devil.  No 
power  on  airth  can  restraiif  you,  no  power  on  airth  can  restrain 
our  mobs.  You  make  laws  and  break  *em  as  suitjs  your  con- 
venience, so  do  our  lynchers.  You  don't  allow  any  one  to 
sport  opinions  you  don't  hold,  or  you  stifle  them  and  their 
opinions  too.  It's  just  so  with  us ;  our  folks  forbid  all  talking 
about  niggers ;  and  if  a  man  forgets  himself,  he  is  reminded 
of  it  by  his  head  supporting  his  body  instead  of  his  heeli^. 
You  have  got  a  liquorish  mouth  for  fartile  iands  beyond  your 
borders,  so  have  we ;  and  yet  both  have  got  more  land  than 
tenants*  Yout  foment  troubles  among  your  neighbours,  and 
then  step  in  to  keep  the  peace,  and  hold  possession  when  you 
get  there,  so  do  we.  You  are  a  great  slave  holder,  so  are  we. 
Folks  accuse  you  of  stealin'  Poland,  the  same  libellin'  villains 
accuse  us  of  stealin'  Texas,  and  a  desire  to  have  Canada  too ; 
and  yet  the  one  is  as  much  without  foundation  as  the  other. 
You  plant  colonies  in  Tartar  lands,  and  then  drive  out  the 
owners:  we  sarve  the  Indians  the  same  way.  You  have 
extarminated  some  of  your  enemies,  we've  extarminated  some 
of  ourn.  Some  folks  say  your  empire  will  split  to  pieces — 
it's  too  big ;  the  identical  same  prophecy  they  make  of  us, 
and  one  is  just  as  likely  as  the  other.  Every  man  in  Russia 
must  bow  to  the  pictur'  of  his  Emperor ;  every  man  must  bow 
to  the  pictur'  of  our  great  nation,  and  swear  through  thick 
and  thin  he  admires  it  more  nor  any  thing  on  the  face  of  the 
airth.  Every  man  in  Russia  may  say  what  he  likes  if  he 
dare,  so  he  may  in  the  l/'-nited  States.  If  foreign  newspapers 
abusin'  Polish  matters  get  into  the  Russia  mail,  the  mail  is 
broken  open  and  they  are  taken  out :  if  abolition  papers  get 
mto  the  Southern  mail,  our  folks  break  open  the  bags  and 
burn  'em,  as  they  did  at  Charleston.  The  law  institutes  no 
inquiries  in  your  dominions  as  to  your  acts  of  execution, 
spoliation,  and  exile ;  neither  is  there  any  inquest  with  us  on 
similar  acts  of  our  mobs.    There  is  no  freedom  of  the  press 


.s^, 


FUTTIirO   A  FOOT   IN   IT. 


101 


with  you,  neither  is  there  with  us.  If  a  paper  ofllends  you, 
you  stop  it:  if  it  ofTends  our  sovereigns,  they  break  the 
machinery,  gut  the  house,  and  throw  the  types  into  the 
street;  and  if  the  printer  escapes,  he  may  thank  God  for 
giving  him  a  good  pair  of  legs.  In  short,  they  may  say  to 
him — it's  generally  allowed  the  freedom  of  one  country  is  as 
like  the  despotism  of  the  other  as  two  peas — no  soul  could 
tell  the  difference ;  and  therefore  there  ought  to  be  an  actual  as 
there  is  a  natural  alliance  between  us.  And  then  the  cunnin* 
critters,  if  they  catch  him  alone  where  they  won't  be  over- 
heard, they  may  sof\  sawder  him,  by  tellin'  him  they  never 
knew  before  the  biessin'  of  havin'  only  one  tyrant  instead  of 
a  thousand,  and  that  it  is  an  amendment  they  intend  to  pro- 
pose to  the  constitution  when  they  return  home,  and  hope 
they'll  yet  live  to  see  it.  From  this  specimen,  you  may  easily 
perceive  that  it  requires  no  great  penetration  or  ability  to 
deceive  even  an  acute  observer  whenever  recourse  is  had  to 
imagination  for  the  facts.  How  far  this  parallel  holds  good 
I  leave  you  to  judge ;  I  desire  to  ofier  you  no  oflence,  but 
I  wish  you  to  understand  that  all  the  world  are  no  in  love 
with  your  republican  institutions  or  your  people,  and  that  both 
are  better  understood  than  you  seem  to  suppose.  Well,  ^  3II, 
says  he,  I  did'nt  mean  to  ryle  you,  I  do  assure  you ;  but  if 
you  havn't  made  a  good  story  out  of  a  Southern  mob  or  two, 
neither  of  which  are  half  as  bad  as  your  Bristol  riot  or  Irish 
frays,  it's  a  pity.  Arter  all,  said  he,  I  don't  know  whether  it 
wouldn't  comport  more  with  our  dignity  to  go  straight  ahead. 
I  believe  it  is  in  politics  as  in  other  matters,  honesty  %»  the  beet 
policy* 


mi 


■•^^--Hv-VV    ■■'«!!?*.■. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


*jr*-  '"■ 


PUTTING  A  FOOT  IN  IT. 


One  amusing  trait  in  the  Clockmaker's  character,  was  his 
love  of  contradiction.  If  you  suggested  any  objection  to  the 
American  government,  he  immediately  put  himself  on  the 
defensive ;  and  if  hard  pressed,  extricated  himself  by  chang- 
ing the  topic.  At  the  same  time  he  would  seldom  allow  me 
to  pass  a  eulogy  upon  it  without  affecting  to  consider  the 
praise  as  misapplied,  and  as  another  instance  of  "  our  not 
0  * 


,sf;.^v,...:i:k,.!A- 


102 


THE  CLOCKMAKBR.  " 


un^ratanding  them."  In  the  course  of  our  conversation,  I 
happened  to  observe  that  the  American  government  was  cer* 
tainly  a  very  cheap  one;  and  that  the  economy  practiced 
in  the  expenditure  of  the  public  revenue,  though  in  some 
instances  cariied  no  far  as  to  border  on  meanness,  was  cer- 
tainly a  very  just  subject  of  national  pride.  Ah,  said  he,  I 
always  said,  **  you  don't  understand  us."  Now  it  happens 
that  that  is  one  of  the  few  things,  if  you  were  only  availed 
of  it,  that  you  could  fault  us  in.  It  is  about  the  most  costly 
government  in  the  world,  considering  our  means.  We  are 
actilly  eat  up  by  it — it  is  a  most  plaguy  sore,  and  has  spread 
so  like  statiee  that  it  has  got  its  root  into  the  very  core. 
Cheap  government ! — well,  come  that  beats  all !  I 

I   should  like  to  know,  said  I,  how  you  Can  make  that 
appear,  for  the  salaries  paid  to  your  public  officers  are  not 
only  small,  but  absolutely  mean ;  and,  in  my  opinion,  wholly 
inadequate  to  procure   the  services  of  the  best  and  most 
efficient  men.     Well,  said  he,  which  costs  most,  to  keep  one 
good  horse  wel^  or  half  a  dozen  poor  ones  ill,  or  to  keep  ten 
rael  complete  good  servants,  or  fifty  lazy,  idle,  do-nothin* 
critters  1  because  that's  gist  our  case, — we  have  too  many  of 
*em  all  together.     We  have  twenty-four  independent  states, 
beside  the  general  government ;  we  have  therefore  twenty-five 
presidents,  twenty-five  secretaries  of  state,  twenty-five  trea- 
surers, twenty-five  senates,  twenty-five  houses  of  representa- 
tives, and  fifty  attorney  generals,  and  all  our  legislators  are 
paid,  every  soul  of 'em;  and  so  are  our  magistrates,  for  they 
all  take  fees  and  seek  the  office  for  pay,  so  that  we  have  as 
many  paid  legislators  as  soldiers,  and  as  many  judges  of  all 
sorts  and  sizes  as  sailors  in  our  navy.     Put  all  these  expenses 
together,  of  state  government  and  general  government,  and 
see  what  an  awful  sum  it  comes  to,  and  then  tell  me  it's  a 
cheap  government.     True,  said  I,  but  you  have  not  that  enor- 
mous item  of  expenditure  known  in  England  under  the  name 
of  half  pay.     We  have  more  officers  of  the  navy  on  half  pay 
than  you  have  in  your  navy  altogether.     So  much  the  better 
for  you,  says  he,  for  ourn  are  all  on  full  pay,  and  when  they 
ain't  employed,  we    set  them    down  as  absent    on   leave. 
Which  costs  the  most  do  you  suppose  ?    That  comes  of  not 
callin'  things  by  their  right  names,  you  see.     Our  folks  know 
this,  but  our  popularity-seekin'  patriots  have  all  their  own 
interest  in  multiplying  these  offices ;  yes,  our  folks  have  put 


'  '»<*!■  j,^ 


puTTiiro  A  rooT  iir  it. 


108 


their  foot  in  it,  that's  a  fact.  They  clin^  to  it  as  the  baar  did 
to  Jack  Fogler's  mill-saw ;  and  I  guess  it  will  sarve  them  the 
same  way.  Did  I  never  tell  you  that  are  story  ?  for  Vm  most 
afeard  sometimes  i*ve  got  father's  fashion  of  tellin'  my  stories 
over  twice.  No,  said  1,  it's  new  to  me ;  I  have  never  heard 
it.     Well,  says  he,  I  will  tell  you  how  it  was. 

Jack  Fogler  lives  to  Nictau-road,  and  he  keeps  a  saw-mill 
and  tavern ;  he's  a  sneezer  that  feller ;  he's  near  hand  tc 
seven  feet  high,  with  shoulders  as  broad  as  a  barn-door  ;  he 
is  a  giant,  that's  a  fact,  and  can  twitch  a  milUlog  as  easy  as  a 
yoke  of  oxen  can — nothin'  never  stops  him.     But  that's  not 
all.  for  I've  seen  a  man  as  big  as  all  out-doors  afore  him  ;  but 
he  has  a  foot  that  beats  all — folks  call  him  the  man  with  the 
foot.    The  first  time  I  seed  him  I  could  not  keep  my  eyes  off 
of  it.    I  actilly  could  not  think  of  any  thing  else.     Well* 
says  I,  Jack,  your  foot  is  a  whopper,  that's  a  foot ;  I  never 
seed  the  beat  of  it  in  all  my  born  days, — it  beats  Gasper 
Zwicher's  all  holler,  and  his  is  so  big,  folks  say  he  has  to 
haul  his  trousers  on  over  his  head.     Yes,  says  he,  lawyer 
Yule  says  it  passes  all  understandin\    Well,  he  has  a  darter 
most  as  big  as  he  is,  but  for  all  that  she  is  near  about  as 
pretty  a  gall  as  I  ever  laid  eyes  on,  but  she  has  her  father's 
foot ;  and,  poor  thing,  she  can't  bear  to  hear  tell  of  it.    I 
mind  once  when  I  came  there,  there  was  no  one  to  home,  and 
I  had  to  see  to  old  Clay  myself;  and  arter  I  had  done,  I  went 
in  and  sot  down  by  the  fire,  and  lighted  a  cigar.     Arter  a 
while,  in  come  Lucy,  lookin'   pretty   tired.     Why,  said  I, 
Lucy,  dear,  where  on  airth  have  you  been  ?  you  look  prettv 
well  beat  out.     Why,  soys  she,  the  bears  are  plaguy  thick 
this  while  past,  and  have  killed  some  of  our  sheep,  so  I  went 
to  the  woods  to  drive  the  flock  home  ag'in  night-fall,  and  fogs! 
I  lost  my  way.     I've  been  gone  ever  so  long,  and  I  don't 
know  as  I'd  ever  afound  my  way  out  ag'in,  if  I  hadn't  a  met 
Bill  Zink  alookin'  up  his  sheep,  and  he  showed  me  the  way  out. 
Thinks  I  to  myself,  let  the  galls  alone  for  an  excuse ;  I  see 
how  the  cat  jumps.     Well,  says  I,  Lucy,  you  are  about  the 
luckiest  gall  I  ever  seed.     Possible,  says  she ; — how's  that  t 
Why,  says  I,  many's  the  gall  I've  known  that's  lost  her  way 
with  a  sweetheart  albre  now,  and  got  on  the  wrong  track ;  but 
you're  the  first  one  ever  I  seed  that  got  put  on  the  right  way 
by  one,  any  how.     Well,  she  larfed,  and  says  she,  you  men 
always  suspect  evil ;  it  shows  how  bad  you  must  be  your- 


is 


104 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


I'i 


selves.  Perhaps  it  may  be  so,  says  I,  but  mind  your  eye,  and 
take  care  you  donH  put  your  foot  in  it.  She  looked  at  me  the 
matter  of  a  minnit  or  so  without  say  in'  a  word,  and  then 
burst  out  abryin'.  She  said,  if  she  had  such  an  awful  big 
foot,  it  warn't  her  fault,  and  it  was  very  onkind  to  larf  at  it  to 
her  face — that  way.  Well,  I  felt  proper  sorry  too,  you  may 
depend,  for  I  vow  she  was  so  oncommon  handsom'  I  had 
never  noticed  that  big  foot  of  hern  till  then.  I  had  hardly  got 
her  pacified  when  in  come  Jack,  with  two  halves  of  a  bear, 
and  threw  'em  down  on  the  floor,  and  larfed  ready  to  kill  him- 
self. I  nevci  seed  the  beat  o'  that,  said  he,  since  I  was  raised 
from  a  seedlin'.  I  never  see  a  feller  so  taken  in  all  my  life — 
that's  a  fact.  Vv^hy,  says  I,  what  is  it?  It  was  some  time 
afore  he  could  speak  ag'in  for  larfin' — for  Jack  was  consider- 
able in  the  wind,  pretty  nearly  half  shaved.  At  last,  says  he, 
you  know  my  failin',  Mr.  Slick ;  I  like  a  drop  of  grog  better 
than  it  likes  me.  Well,  when  the  last  rain  came,  and  the 
brook  was  pretty  considerable  full,  I  kag'd  for  a  month,  (that 
is,  said  the  Clqckmaker,  he  had  taken  an  oath  to  abstain  from 
drawing  liquor  from  ihe  keg — they  calls  it  V?ggin',)  and  my 
kag  was  out  to-day  at  twelve  o'clock.  Well,  I  had  just  got  a 
log  on  the  ways  when  the  sun  was  on  the  twelve  o'clock  line, 
so  I  stops  the  mill  and  takes  out  my  dinner,  and  sets  it  down 
on  the  log,  and  then  runs  up  to  the  house  to  draw  off  a  bottle 
of  rum.  Wtien  I  returned,  and  was  just  about  to  enter  the 
mill,  what  should  I  see  but  that  are  bear  a  sittin'  on  the  pine 
stick  in  the  mill  aetin'  of  my  dinner,  so  I  gist  backs  out,  takes 
a  good  swig  mi  of  the  bottle,  and  lays  it  down  to  run  off  homo 
for  the  gun,  when,  says  I  to  myself,  says  I,  he'll  make  a 
plaguy  sight  shorter  work  of  that  are  dinner  than  I  would, 
and  when  he's  done  he*il  not  wait  to  wipe  his  mouth  with  the 
!c>7'el  neither.  May  be  he'll  be  gone  afore  I  gets  back,  so  I 
gist  crawls  under  the  mill — pokes  up  a  stick  through  the  j'ico 
?nd  starts  the  plug,  and  sets  the  mill  agoin'.  Well  the  motion 
was  so  easy,  and  he  was  so  busy,  he  never  moves,  and  arter 
a  little  the  saw  just  gives  him  a  scratch  on  the  back  ;  well,  he 
growls  and  shoves  forward  abit  on  his  rump ;  presently  it 
gives  him  another  scratch,  with  that  he  wheels  short  round 
and  lays  right  hold  of  it,  and  gives  it  a  most  devil  of  a  lug 
with  his  paws,  and  afore  he  knowed  what  he  was  about  it 
pinned  him  down  and  sawed  him  right  in  two,  he  squelin'  and 
kickin'  and  singin'  out  like  a  good  feller  the  whole  blessed 
time.     Thinks  I,  he  put  his  foot  in  it  that  feller,  any  how. 


P 


_'„,-i..« ,  * 


I  ' 


PUTTIirO   A   FOOT   Ilf   IT. 


105 


Yes,  our  folks  have  put  their  foot  in  it ;  a  cheap  article  ainH 
always  the  I>e8t ;  if  you  want  a  rael  right  down  first  chop, 
genut0tne  thing,  you  must  pay  for  it.  Talent  and  integrity 
ain't  such  common  things  any  where,  that  they  are  to  be  had 
for  half  nothin\  A  man  that  has  them  two  things  can  go 
a>head  any  where,  and  if  you  want  him  to  give  up  his  own 
cbnsams  to  see  arter  those  of  the  public,  and  don't  give  him 
the  fair  market  price  for  'em,  he  is  plaguy  apt  to  put  his  in- 
tegrity in  his  pocket,  and  put  his  talents  to  usury.  What  he 
loses  one  way  he  makes  up  another :  if  he  can't  get  it  out  of 
his  pay,  he  takes  it  out  of  parquesits,  jobs,  patronage,  or 
somethin'  or  another.  Folks  won't  sarve  the  public  for  nothin' 
no  more  than  they  will  each  other  free-gratis.  An  honest  man 
won't  take  office,  if  it  won't  support  him  properly,  but  a  dis- 
honest one  will,  'cause  he  won't  stand  about  trifles,  but  goes 
the  whole  figur' — and  where  you  have  a  good  many  critters, 
as  public  sarvants — why,  a  little  slip  of  the  pen  or  trip  of  the 
foot,  ain't  thought  nothin'  of,  and  the  tone  of  public  feelin'  is 
lowered,  till  at  last  folks  judge  of  a  man's  dishonesty  by  the 
'cuteness  of  it.  If  the  slight-o-hand  ain't  well  done,  they  say, 
when  he  is  detected,  he  is  a  fool— cuss  him,  it  sarves  him 
right ;  but  if  it  is  done  so  slick  that  you  can  hardly  see  it 
even  when  it's  done  afore  your  eyes,  people  say,  a  fine  bold 
stroke  that — splendid  business  talent,  that  man — considerable 
powers — a  risin'  character — eend  by  bein'  a  great  man  in  the 
long  run. 

You  recollect  the  story  of  the  quaker  and  his  insurance, 
don't  you  ?  He  had  a  vessel  to  sea  that  he  hadn't  heerd  of 
for  a  considerable  time,  and  he  was  most  plaguyly  afeerd  she 
had  gone  for  it ;  so  he  sent  an  order  to  his  broker  to  insure 
her.  Well,  next  day  he  larnt  for  sartain  that  she  was  lost,  so 
what  does  he  do  but  writes  to  his  broker  as  if  he  meant  to 
save  the  premium  by  recallin'  the  order :  If  thee  hast  not  in- 
sured, thee  need'st  not  do  itj  esteemed  friend,  for  I  have  heerd 
of  the  vessel.  The  broker,  Ihinkin'  it  would  be  all  clear  gain, 
falls  right  into  the  trap ;  tells  him  his  letter  came  too  late,  for 
he  had  effected  the  insurance  half  an  hour  afore  it  arrived. 
Verily,  I  am  sorry  for  thee,  friend,  said  the  quaker,  if  that  be 
the  case,  for  a  heavy  loss  will  fall  on  thee ;  of  a  sartainty  I 
have  heerd  of  the  vessel,  but  she  is  lost.  Now  that  was  what 
I  call  handsom' ;  it  showed  great  talents  that,  and  a  know 
ledge  of  human  natur'  and  sofl  sayvder. 


i| 


106 


THE   OLOCKMAKBR. 


I  thought,  said  I,  that  your  annual  parliaments,  universal 
sufTrage,  and  system  of  rotation  of  office,  had  a  tendency  to 
prevent  corruption,  by  removing  the  modns  and  the  oppoi^tu- 
nity  to  any  extent.  Well,  it  would,  perhaps,  to  a  certain 
point,  said  the  Clockmaker,  if  you  knew  where  that  point 
was,  and  could  stop  there ;  but  wherever  it  is,  I  am  afeerd  we 
have  passed  it.  Annual  parliaments  bring  in  so  many  raw 
hands  every  year,  that  they  are  gist  like  pawns  in  the  game 
of  chess,  only  fit  for  tools  to  move  about  and  count  while  the 
game  is  played  by  the  bigger  ones.  They  get  so  puzzled— 
the  critters,  with  the  forms  o'  the  house,  that  they  put  me  in 
mind  of  a  feller  standin'  up  for  the  first  time  in  a  quadrille. 
One  tells  him  to  cross  over  here,  and  afore  he  gets  there  an- 
other calls  him  back  ag'in ;  one  pushes  him  to  the  right  and 
another  to  the  left  ;  he  runs  ag'in  every  body,  and  every  body 
runs  ag'in  him ;  he  treads  on  the  heels  of  the  galls  and  takes 
their  skin  and  their  shoes  off,  and  they  tread  on  his  toes,  and 
return  the  compliment  to  his  corns ;  he  is  no  good  in  natur*, 
except  to  bother  folks  and  put  them  out.  The  old  hands  that 
have  been  there  afore,  and  cut  their  eye-teeth,  know  how  to 
bam  these  critters,  and  make  'em  believe  the  moon  is  made 
of  green  cheese.  That  gives  great  power  to  the  master 
movers,  and  they  are  enabled  to  spikelate  handsum  in  land 
stock,  bank  stock,  or  any  other  corporate  stock,  for  they  can 
raise  or  depress  the  article  gist  as  they  please  by  legislative 
action. 

There  was  a  grand  legislative  speck  made  not  long  since, 
called  the  preemption  speck.  A  law  was  passed,  that  all 
who  had  settled  on  government  lands  without  title,  should 
have  a  right  of  preemption  at  a  very  reduced  price,  below 
common  upset  sum,  if  application  was  made  on  a  particular 
day.  The  jobbers  watched  the  law  very  sharp,  and  the  mo- 
ment it  passed,  off  they  sot  with  their  gangs  of  men  and  a 
magistrate,  camped  out  all  night  on  the  wild  land,  made  the 
affidavits  of  settlement,  and  run  on  till  they  went  over  a'most 
— a  deuce  of  a  tract  of  country,  that  was  all  picked  out  afore- 
hand  for  them  ;  then  returned  their  affidavits  to  the  office,  got 
the  land  at  preemption  rate,  and  turned  right  round  and  sold 
it  at  market  price — pocketed  the  difference — and  netted  a  most 
handsum  thing  by  the  spec. 

Them  pet  banks  was  another  splendid  affair ;  it  deluged  the 
land  with  corruption  that, — it  was  too  bad  to  think  on.   When 


PUTTIVO   A   FOOT   IN   IT. 


101 


tho  government  is  in  the  many,  as  with  us,  and  rotation  of 
office  is  the  order  of  the  day,  there  is  a  nateral  tendency  to 
multiply  offices,  so  that  every  one  can  get  his  share  of  *3m, 
and  it  increases  expenses,  breeds  office-seekers,  and  corrupts 
tho  whole  mass.  It  is  in  politics  as  in  farmin', — one  large 
farm  is  worked  at  much  less  expense  and  much  greater  profit, 
and  is  better  in  many  ways  than  half  a  dozen  small  ones ;  and 
the  head  farmer  is  a  more  'sponsible  man,  and  better  to  do  in 
the  world,  and  has  more  influence  than  the  small  fry. 
Things  are  better  done  too  on  hia  farm — the  tools  are  better, 
the  teams  are  better,  and  the  crops  are  better :  it's  better  alto> 
gether.  Our  first-rate  men  ain't  in  politics  with  us.  It  don't 
pay  'em,  and  they  won't  go  thro'  the  mill  for  it.  Our  princi* 
pie  is  to  consider  all  public  men  rogues,  and  to  watch  'em  well 
that  they  keep  straight.  Well,  I  ain't  gist  altogether  certified 
that  this  don't  help  to  make  'em  rogues ;  where  there  u  no 
cunfidenccj  there  can  be  no  honesty  ;  locks  and  keys  are  good 
things,  but  if  you  can't  never  trust  a  sarvant  with  a  key,  he 
don't  think  the  better  of  his  master  for  all  his  suspicions,  and 
is  plaguy  apt  to  get  a  key  of  his  own.  Then  they  do  get 
such  a  drill  thro'  the  press,  that  no  man  who  thinks  any  great 
shakes  of  himself  can  stand  it.  A  feller  must  have  a  hide 
as  thick  as  a  bull's  to  bear  all  the  lashing  our  public  men  get 
the  whole  blessed  time,  and  if  he  can  bear  it  without  wmkin', 
it's  more  perhaps  than  his  family  can.  There's  nothin'  in 
office  that's  worth  it.  So  our  best  men  ain't  I'n  office — they 
can't  submit  to  it. 

I  knew  a  judge  of  the  state  court  of  New  York,  a  first  chop 
man  too,  give  it  up,  and  take  the  office  of*  clerk  in  the  identi- 
cal same  court.  He  said  he  couldn't  afford  to  be  a  judge ;  it 
was  only  them  who  couldn't  make  a  livin'  by  their  practice 
that  it  would  suit.  No,  squire,  it  would  be  a  long  story  to  go 
through  the  whole  thing;  but  we  ain't  the  cherpest  govern- 
ment in  the  world — that's  a  fact.  When  you  come  to  visit  us 
and  go  deep  into  the  matter,  and  see  gineral  government  and 
state  government,  and  local  taxes  and  gineral  taxes,  although 
the  items  are  small,  the  sum  total  is  a'most  a  swingin'  large 
one,  I  tell  you.     You  take  a  shop  account  and  read  it  over. 


make  you  stare  and  look  corner  ways,  it's  a  pity. 


h  i 


108 


^) 


f  V 


THE  CLOCKMAKER. 


'  What  made  me  first  of  all  think  o*  these  things,  was  seein* 
how  they  got  on  in  the  colonies ;  why,  the  critters  don't  pay 
no  taxes  at  all  a'most — they  actilly  don't  deserve  the  name 
o'  taxes.  They  don't  know  how  well  they're  off,  that's  sar- 
tain.  I  mind  when  I  used  to  be  agrumblin'  to  home  when  I 
was  a  boy  about  knee-high  to  a  goose  or  so,  father  used  to  say, 
Sam,  if  you  want  to  know  how  to  valy  home,  you  should  go 
abroad  for  a  while  among  strangers.  It  ain't  all  gold  that 
glitters,  my  boy.  You'd  soon  find  out  what  a  nice  home 
you've  got ;  for  mind  what  I  tell  you,  home  is  home,  however 
homely — that's  a  fact.  These  blue-noses  ought  to  be  gist  sent 
away  from  home  a  little  while ;  if  they  were,  when  they  re- 
turned, I  guess,  they'd  larn  how  to  valy  their  location.  It's  a 
lawful  colony  this, — things  do  go  on  rig'lar, — a  feller  can  rely 
on  law  here  to  defend  his  property,  he  needn't  do  as  I  seed  a 
squatter  to  Ohio  do  once.  I  had  stopt  at  his  house  one  day  to 
bait  my  horse ;  and  in  the  course  of  conversation  about  mat- 
ter., and  things  in  gineral,  says  I,  What's  your  title  1  is  it  from 
government,  br  purchased  from  settlers? — I'll  tell  you,  Mr. 
Slick,  he  says,  what  my  title  is, — and  he  went  in  and  took 
his  rifle  down,  and  brought  it  to  the  door.  Do  you  see  that 
are  hen,  said  he,  with  the  top-knot  on,  afeedin'  by  the  fence 
there?  Yes,  says  I,  I  do. — Well,  says  he,  see  that;  and  he 
put  a  bull  right  through  the  head  of  it.  That^  said  he,  I 
reckon,  is  my  title ;  and  that's  the  way  I'll  sarve  any  tarna- 
tion scoundrel  that  goes  for  to  meddle  with  it.  Says  I,  if  that's 
your  title,  depend  on't  you  won't  have  many  fellers  troublin' 
you  with  claims.  I  rather  guess  not,  said  he,  larfin' ;  and  the 
lawyers  won't  be  over  forrard  to  buy  such  claims  on  spekila- 
tion, — und  he  wiped  his  rifle,  reloaded  her,  and  hung  her  up 
ag'in.     There's  nothin'  of  that  kind  here. 

But  as  touchin'  the  matter  o'  cheap  government,  why  it's  as 
well  as  not  for  our  folks  to  hold  out  that  ourn  is  so ;  but  the 
truth  is,  atween  you  and  me,  though  I  would'nt  like  you  to  lei, 
on  to  any  one  I  said  so,  the  truth  is,  somehow  or  other,  we've 
put  our  foot  in  it — that's  a  fact. 


'"^*"'B^'  ■y' 


ENOtlSH  ARISTOCRACY. 


109 


-<*i#.  ''^  "^"i-'"^ 

■  jri:v-'^;*/'-^t^?i*;vrv  -    '*  .if--'-';v^.}  '■'■  -" 

'mc'^'- 

^    H^.    4l     *  :  :>'  •••>,!■  "V  V.    .i^  ■/ 

--mr.     ,•  •    . 

■  ■  M'^-y:  nr:V';  ■* 

CHAPTER  XIV.       V  2,-^-t 

'.,. 

yMi.h  ■'^^'■''>^i  ",  V  ■ 

;,:  „'.■-'. ;|>v,viV>Vyv 

.i/:<i';?^ 

ENGLISH  ARISTOCRACY  AND  YANKEE  MOBOCRACY  ' 

When  we  have  taken  our  tower,  said  the  Clockmaker,  I 
ostimate  I  will  return  to  the  t/^-nited  States  for  good  and  all. 
You  had  ought  to  visit  our  great  nation,  you  may  depend ;  it's 
the  most  splendid  location  at  ween  the  poles.  History  can't 
show  nothin'  like  it ;  you  might  bile  all  creation  down  to  an 
essence,  and  not  get  such  a  concrete  as  New  England.  It's  a 
sight  to  behold  twelve  millions  of  free  and  enlightened  citizens, 
and  I  guess  we  shall  have  all  these  provinces,  and  all  South 
America.  There  is  no  eend  to  us ;  old  Rome  that  folks  make 
such  a  touss  about,  was  nothin'  to  us — it  warn't  fit  to  hold  a 
candle  to  our  federal  government, — that's  a  fact.  I  intend, 
said  I,  to  do  so  before  I  go  to  Europe,  and  may  perhaps  avail 
myself  of  your  kind  offer  to  accompany  me.  Is  an  English- 
man well  received  in  your  country  now  ?  Well,  he  is  now, 
said  Mr.  Slick ;  the  last  war  did  that  ,*  we  licked  the  Britii^h 
into  a  respect  for  us ;  and  if  it  warn't  that  they  are  so  plaguy 
jealous  of  our  factories,  and  so  invyous  of  our  freedom,  I 
guess  we  should  be  considerable  sociable,  but  they  can't  sto- 
mach our  glorious  institutions  no  how.  They  don't  understand 
us.  Father  and  our  Minister  used  to  have  great  arguments 
about  the  British.  Father  hated  them  like  pyson,  as  most  of 
our  revolutionary  heroes  did ;  but  minister  used  to  stand  up 
for  'em  considerable  stiff. 

I  mind  one  evenin'  arter  hay  harvest,  father  said  to  me, 
Sam,  said  he,  'spose  we  go  down  and  see  minister ;  I  guess 
he's  a  little  mifiey  with  me,  for  I  brought  him  up  all  standin' 
t'other  night  by  sayin'  the  English  were  a  damned  overbearin' 
tyrannical  race,  and  he  hadn't  another  word  to  si  y.  When 
you  make  use  of  such  language  as  that  are,  Colonel  Slick, 
said  he,  there's  an  eend  of  all  conversation.  I  allow  it  is  very 
disrespectful  to  swear  afore  a  minister,  and  very  onhandsum 
to  do  so  at  all,  and  I  don't  approbate  suck  talk  at  no  rate.  So 
we  will  drop  the  subject  if  you  please.  Well,  I  got  pretty 
grumpy  too,  and  we  parted  in  a  huff.  I  think  myself,  says 
father,  it  warn't  pretty  to  swear  afore  him ;  for,  Sam,  if  there 
10 


110 


THE  CLOCKMAKBR. 


is  a  good  man  a^oin*  it  is  minister, — that^s  a  fact.  But,  Sam, 
says  he,  we  military  men, — and  he  straightened  himself  up 
considerable  stiff,  and  pulled  up  his  collar,  and  looked  as  fierce 
OS  a  lion, — we  military  men,  says  he,  have  a  habit  of  rappin* 
out  an  oath  now  and  then.  Very  few  of  our  heroes  didn't 
swear;  I  recollect  that  tarnation  fire-eeter,  Gineral  Gates, 
when  he  was  in  our  sarvice,  ordered  me  once  to  attack  a 
British  outpost,  and  I  didn't  much  more  than  half  like  it. 
Gineral,  says  I,  there's  a  plaguy  stone  wall  there,  and  the 
British  have  lined  it,  I  guess ;  and  I'm  athinkin'  it  ain't  alto* 
gether  gist  safe  to  go  too  near  it.  D — m — n, — Captain  Slick, 
says  he, — (I  was  gist  made  a  captain  then)— d — m — ^n.  Cap- 
tain Slick,  says  he,  ain't  there  two  sides  to  a  stone  wall? 
Don't  let  me  hear  the  like  ag'in  from  you,  said  he.  Captain, 
or  I  hope  I  may  be  tetotally  and  effectually  d — d  if  I  don't 
break  you — !  I  will,  by  gosh  i  He  warn't  a  man  to  be  trifled 
with,  you  may  depend ;  so  I  drew  up  my  company,  and  made 
at  the  wall  double  quick,  expectin'  every  minit  would  be  our 
last. 

Gist  .as  we  got  near  the  fence,  I  hoerd  a  scrablin'  and 
a  scuddin'  behind  it,  and  I  said,  now,  says  I,  for'ard  my  boys, 
for  your  lives !  hct  foot,  and  down  onder  the  fence  on  your 
bellies !  and  thnn  we  shall  be  as  safe  as  they  be,  and  p'rhaps 
we  can  loophole  'em.  Well,  we  gist  hit  it,  and  got  there 
without  a  shot,  and  down  on  our  faces  as  flat  as  flounders. 
Presently  we  heerd  the  British  run  for  dear  life,  and  take  right 
back  across  the  road,  full  split.  Now,  says  I,  ray  hearties, 
up  and  let  drive  at  'em,  right  over  the  wall !  Well,  we  got  on 
our  knees,  and  cocked  our  guns,  so  as  to  have  all  ready,  and 
then  we  jump'd  up  an  eend ;  and  seein'  nothin'  but  a  great 
cloud  o'  dust,  we  fired  right  into  it,  and  down  we  heerd  'em 
tumble ;  and  when  the  dust  cleared  off,  we  saw  the  matter  of 
twenty  white  breeches  turned  up  to  us  sprawlin'  on  the  ground. 
Gist  at  that  moment  we  heerd  three  cheers  from  the  inemy  at 
the  fort,  and  a  great  shout  of  larfin'  from  our  army  too ;  they 
haw-hawed  like  thunder.  Well,  says  I,  as  soon  as  I  could 
see,  if  that  don't  bang  the  bush.  I'll  be  darn'd  if  it  ain't 
a  flock  of  sheep  belongin'  to  Elder  Solomon  Longstaff,  arter 
all, — and  if  we  ain't  killed  the  matter  of  a  score  of  'em 
too,  as  dead  as  mutton ;  that's  a  fact.  Well,  we  returned  con- 
siderable down  in  the  mouth,  and  says  the  gineral,  captain, 
says  he,  I  guess  you  made  the  enemy  look  pretty  sheepish. 


ENGLISH   ARISTOCRACY. 


in 


did^nt  you  ?  Well,  if  the  officers  didn*t  larf,  it's  a  pity ;  and 
says  a  Varginy  officer  that  was  there,  in  ^  sort  of  half 
whisper,  that  wall  was  well  lined,  you  may  depend ;  sheep  on 
one  side  and  asses  on  the  other !  Says  i,  stranger  you  had 
better  not  say  that  are  ag*in,  or  Til  — —  Gintlemen,  says  the 
general,  resarve  your  heat  for  the  inemy ;  no  quarrels  among 
ourselves — and  he  rode  off,  havin*  first  whispered  in  my  ear, 
Do  you  hear,  captain,  d — n  you!  there  are  two  sides  to 
a  wall.  Yes,  says  I,  gineral,  and  two  sides  to  a  story  too. 
And  don't  for  gracious'  sake,  say  any  more  about  it.  Yes, 
we  military  men  all  swear  a  few, — it's  the  practice  of  the 
camp,  and  seems  kinder  nateral.  But  I'll  go  and  make  friends 
with  minister.  ^. 

Well,  we  walked  down  to  Mr.  Hopewell's,  and  we  (bund 
him  in  a  little  summer  house,  all  covered  over  with  honey> 
suckle,  as  busy  as  you  please  with  a  book  he  was  astudyin', 
and  as  soon  as  he  seed  us,  he  laid  it  down,  and  came  out  to 
meet  us.  Colonel  Slick,  says  he,  I  owe  you  an  apolosy, 
I  believe ;  T  consait  I  spoke  too  abrupt  to  you  t'other  evenin'. 
I  ought  to  have  made  some  allowance  for  the  ardour  of  one 
of  our  military  heroes.  Well,  it  took  father  all  aback  that, 
for  he  know'd  it  was  him  that  was  to  blame,  and  not  minister, 
so  he  began  to  say  that  it  was  him  that  ought  to  ax  pardon ; 
but  minister  wouldn't  hear  a' word, — (he  was  all  humility  was 
minister — he  had  no  more  pride  than  a  babe,) — and  says  he. 
Come,  colonel,  walk  in  and  sit  down  here,  and  wo  will  see  if 
we  cannot  muster  a  bottle  of  cider  for  you,  for  I  take  this 
visit  very  kind  of  you.  Well,  he  brought  out  the  cider,  and 
we  sot  down  quite  sociable  like.  Now,  says  he,  colonel} 
what  news  have  you.  ^ 

Well,  says  father,  neighbour  Dearboum  tells  me  that  he 
heerd  from  excellent  authority  that  he  can't  doubt,  when  he 
was  to  England,  that  King  George  the  Third  has  been  dead 
these  two  years  ;  but  his  ministers  darsen't  let  the  people 
know  it,  for  fear  of  a  revolution  ;  so  they  have  given  out  that 
he  took  the  loss  of  these  States  so  much  to  heart,  and  fretted 
and  carried  on  so  about  it,  that  he  ain't  able  to  do  business  no 
more,  and  that  they  *ire  obliged  to  keep  him  included.  They 
say  the  people  want  to  have  a  government  gist  like  ourn,  but 
the  lords  and  great  folks  won't  let  'em, — and  that  if  a  poor 
man  lays  by  a  few  dollars,  the  nobles  send  and  take  it  right 
away,  for  fear  they  should  buy  powder  and  shot  with  it.     It's 


'  #  / 


'/" 


u. 


I 


f 


i  ^i' 


us 


THE  CLOCKMAKER. 


:■ 


awful  to  think  on,  ain^t  it  f  I  allow  the  Britjsh  are  about  the 
most  enslaved,  oppressed,  ignorant,  and  miserable  foiks  on  tkjO 
face  of  creation.  .  ^  k 

^y  You  musnU  believe  all  you  hear,  said  minister ;  depend 
upon  it,  there  ainU  a  word  of  truth  in  it.  I  have  been  a  good 
deal  in  Englqjid,  and  I  do  assure  you,  they  are  as  free  as  we 
be,  and  a  most  plaguy  sight  richer,  stronger,  and  wiser. 
Their  government  convenes  them  better  than  ourn  would,  and 
I  must  say  there  be  some  things  in  it  I  like  better  than  ourn 
too.  Now,  says  he,  colonel,  I'll  pint  out  to  you  where  they 
have  a'most  an  amazin'  advantage  over  us  here  in  America. 
First  of  all,  there  is  the  King  on  his  throne,  an  hereditary 
King, — a  born  King, — the  head  of  his  people,  and  not  the 
head  of  a  party  ;  not  supported,  right  or  wrong,  by  one  side 
because  they  chose  him, — nor  hated  and  opposed,  right  or 
wrong,  by  t*otlier  because  they  don't  vo:  ?  for  him  ;  but  loved 
and  supported  by  all  because  he  is  their  King ;  and  regarded 
by  all  with  a  feelin'  we  don't  know  nothin'  of  in  our  country, 
— a  feelin'  of  loyalty.  Yes,  says  father,  and  they  don't  care 
whether  it'  a  man,  woman,  or  child  ;  the  ignorant,  benighted 
critters.  They  are  considerable  sure,  says  minister,  he  ain't 
a  rogue,  at  any  rate. 

Well,  the  next  link  in  the  chain (Chains  enough,  poor 

wretches !  says  father ;  but  it's  good  enough  for  'em  tho',  I 
guess) — Well,  the  next  link  in  the  chain  is  the  nobility,  inde- 
pendent of  the  crown  on  one  side,  and  the  people  on  the 
other ;  a  body  distinguished  for  its  wealth, — its  larnin', — its 
munificence, — its  high  honour, — and  all  the  great  and  good 
qualities  that  ennoble  the  human  heart.  Yes,  says  father,  and 
y^  they  can  sally  out  o'  their  castles,  seize  travellers,  and 
rob  *em  of  all  they  have ;  hav'n't  they  got  the  whole  country 
enslaved  ? — the  debauched,  profligate,  effeminate^  tyrannical 
gang  as  they  be  ; — and  see  what  mean  offices  they  fill  about 
the  King's  parson.  They  put  me  in  mind  of  my  son  Eldad 
when  he  went  to  larn  the  doctors'  trade, — they  took  him  the 
first  winter  to  the  dissectin'  room.  So  in  the  spring,  says  I, 
Eldad,  says  I,  how  do  you  get  on?  Why,  says  he,  father,  I've 
only  had  my  first  lesson  yet.  What  is  that  ?  says  I.  Why, 
says  he,  when  the  doctors  are  dissectin'  of  a  carcase  of  cold 
meat,  (for  that's  the  name  a  subject  goes  by,)  I  have  to  stand 
by  'em  and  keep  my  hands  clean,  to  wipe  their  noses,  give 
'em  snuff,  and  light  cigars  for  'em ; — and  the  snuff  sets  'em  a 


,    .    'i 


■IfOLlSH   ARISTOCRACY.. 


118 


sneezin'  so,  I  have  to  be  a  wipin*  of  their  noses  everlastinMy. 
It*s  a  dirty  business,  that*s  a  fact ; — but  dissectin*  is  a  dirty 
afllair,  I  guess,  altogether.  Well,  bv  all  accounts  the  nobility 
fill  offices  as  mean  as  the  doctors  apprentices  do  the  first 
winter. 

I  tell  you,  these  are  mere  lies,  says  minister,  got  up  here  by 
a  party  to  influence  us  ag'in  the  British.  Well,  well !  said 
father,  go  on,  and  he  threw  one  leg  over  the  other,  i  led  back 
in  his  chair,  folded  his  arms  over  bis  breast,  and  looked  as 
dctarmined  as  if  he  thought — now  you  mcy  gist  talk  till  you 
arc  hoarse,  if  you  like,  but  you  won't  convmce  me,  I  can  tell 
you.  Then  there  is  an  Established  Church,  containin'  a  body 
o*  men  distinguished  for  their  piety  and  larnin*,  uniform  prac- 
tice. Christian  lives,  and  consistent  conduct :  gist  a  beach  that 
keeps  off  the  assaults  of  the  waves  o'  infidelity  and  enthu- 
siasm from  the  Christian  harbour  within — the  great  bulwark 
and  breakwater  that  protects  and  shelters  Protestantism  in  the 
world.  Oh  dear,  oh  detr !  said  father,  and  he  looked  over  to 
me,  quite  streaked,  as  much  as  to  say.  Now,  Sam,  do  only 
hear  the  nonsense  that  are  old  critter  is  atalkin*  of:  ain*t  it 
horrid  ?  Then  there  is  the  gentry,  and  a  fine,  honourable, 
manly,  hospitable,  independent  race  they  be ;  all  on  *em  suns 
in  their  little  spheres,  illuminatin*,  warmin',  and  chcerin*  all 
within  their  reach.  Old  families,  attached  to  all  around  them, 
and  all  attached  to  them,  both  them  and  the  people  recollectin* 
that  there  have  been  twenty  generations  of  *em  kind  land- 
lords, good  neighbours,  liberal  patrons,  indulgent  masters ;  or 
if  any  of  *em  went  abroad,  heroes  by  field  and  by  flood. 
Yes,  says  father,  and  they  carried  back  somethin'  to  brag  on 
from  Bunker's  Hill,  I  guess,  didn't  they?  We  spoilt  the 
pretty  faces  of  some  of  their  landlords,  that  hitch,  any  how — 
ay,  and  their  tenants  too ;  hang  me  if  we  didn't.  When  I 
was  at  Bun ' 

Then  there  is  the  professional  men,  rich  marchants,  and 
opulent  factorists,  all  so  many  out-works  to  the  king,  and  all 
to  be  beat  down  afore  you  can  get  at  the  throne.  Well,  all 
these  blend  and  mix,  and  are  entwined  and  interwoven  to- 
gether, and  make  that  great,  harmonious,  beautiful,  social  and 
political  machine,  the  British  constitution.  The  children  of 
nobles  ain't  nobles — (I  guess  not,  says  father — why  shocdd 
they  be  1  ain't  all  men  free  and  equal  ?  read  Jeflerson's  de- 

clara ) — but  they  have  to  mix  with  the  commons,  and  be- 

10* 


114 


THE    CLOCKMAKEfU« 


■  ■• 


tf 


como  commoners  themsolvoS)  and  part  of  the  great  general 
mass, — (and  enough  to  pyson  the  whole  mass  too,  said  lather, 
gist  yeast  enough  to  farment  it,  and  spile  the  whole  batch). 
Quito  the  l|^varso,  says  ministQjr ;  to  use  a  homely  simile,  it  8 
like  a  piece  of  fat  pork  thrown  into  a  boilin*  kettle  of  maple 
syrup ;  it  chock*  the  bubbhn'  and  makes  the  boilin*  subside, 
and  not  run  over.  Well,  you  see,  by  the  House  o'  Lords  get- 
ting recruits  from  able  commoners,  and  the  commoners  gettin* 
recruits  from  the  young  nobility,  by  intermarriage — and  by 
the  gradual  branchm'  ofl*  of  the  young  people  of  bbth  sexes, 
it  becomes  the  people's  nobility ^  and  the  king^»  nohilityf  sym- 
pathising with  both,  but  independent  of  either.  That's  gist 
the  diflerenco  'atwccn  them  and  foreigners  on  the  Continent ; 
that's  the  secret  of  their  power,  |X)pularity  and  strength.  The 
king  leans  on  'em,  and  the  people  leans  on  'em — they  are  the 
key-stone  of  the  arch.  They  don't  stand  alone,  a  high  cold 
snowy  peak,  a'  overlookin'  of  the  world  beneath,  and  athrow- 
in'  a  (lark  deep  shadow  o'er  the  rich  and  fertile  regions  below 
it.  They  ain't  like  the  cornish  of  a  room,  pretty  to  look  at, 
but  of  no  airthly  use  whatever ;  a  thing  you  could  pull  away, 
and  leave  the  room  standin',  gist  as  well  without,  but  they  are 
the  pillars  of  the  state — the  flooted,  and  grooved,  and  carved, 
and  ornamental,  but  solid  pillars — you  can't  take  away  the 
pillars,  or  the  state  comes  down — you  can't  cut  out  the 
flootin',  or  groovin',  or  xsarvin',  for  it's  in  so  deep  you'd  have 
to  cut  the  pillars  away  to  nothin'  a'most  to  get  it  out.  Well, 
says  father,  arisin'  of  his  voice  till  he  screamed,  have  you 
nothin',  sir,  to  praise  to  home,  sir?  I  think  you  whitewashed 
that  British  sepulchre  of  rottenness  and  corruption,  that  House 
o'  Lords,  pretty  well,  and  painted  the  harlot's  eldest  darter, 
till  she  looks  as  (larnty  as  the  old  one  of  Babylon  herself; 
let's  have  a  touch  o'  your  brush  to  liomo  now,  will  you?  You 
don't  onderstand  me  yet,  Colonel  Slick,  said  he ;  I  want  to 
show  you  somethin'  in  the  workin'  o'  the  machinery  you  ain't 
thought  of,  I  know.  N,'W,  you  see,  colonel,  all  these  parts  I 
described  are  checks,  we  ain't  got,— (and  1  trust  in  God  we 
never  shall,  says  father — we  want  no  check — nothin'  can 
never  stop  us,  but  the  limits  o'  creation,)  and  we  ain't  pro- 
vised  any  in  their  place,  and  I  don't  see  what  on  airth  we 
shall  do  for  these  drag-chains  on  popular  opinion.  There's 
nothin'  here  to  make  it  of — no^ln'  in  the  natur'  of  things  to 
substitute — nothin'  invented,  or  capable  of  the  wear-and-tear, 


--J- 


ENGLISH   ARISTOCRACY. 


llti 


if  invented,  that  will  be  the  least  morsel  of  use  in  the  world. 
Explain  what  you  mean^  for  gracious  sake*  says  father,  for  I 
don't  onderstand  one  word  of  what  you  are  asayin*  of:  who 
dares  talk  of  chains  to  popular  opinion  of  twelve  million  of 
free  and  enlightened  citizens  ?  Well,  says  minister,  gist  see 
here,  colonel,  instead  of  all  these  gradations  and  circles,  and 
what  not,  they  Ve  got  in  England— each  havin'  its  own  prin* 
ciple  of  action,  harmonizin'  with  one  another,  yet  essentially 
independent — we  got  but  one  class,  one  mass,  one  people. 
Some  natur'  has  made  a  little  smarter  than  others,  and  some 
education  has  distinguished ;  some  are  a  little  richer,  some  a 
little  poorer — but  still  we  have  nothin*  but  a  mass,  a  populace, 
a  people;  all  alike  in  great  essentials,  all  havin*  the  same 
power,  same  rights,  same  privileges,  and  df  course  same  feel- 
in's : — call  it  what  you  willf  it's  a  papulace^  in  fact. 
"f^'Our  name  is  Legion,  says  father,  ajumpin*  up  in  a  great 
rage.  Yes,  sir,  legion  is  our  name— we  have  twelve  millions 
of  freemen,  ready  to  march  to  the  utmost  limits  o'  creation, 
and  fight  the  devil  himself  if  he  was  there,  with  all  his  hosts ; 
and  I'm  the  man  to  lead  'em,  sir ;  I'm  the  boy  that  gist  will 
do  it.  Rear  rank,  take  open  order,  right  shoulders  for'ard-— 
march!  And  the  old  man  begun  to  step  out  as  if  he  was 
aleadin'  of  'em  on  their  way  ag'in  old  Nick — whistling  Yan- 
kee-doodle all  the  time,  and  lookin'  as  fierce  as  if  he  could 
whip  his  weight  in  wild  cats.  Well,  says  minister,  I  guess 
you  won't  have  to  go  quite  so  far  to  find  the  devils  to  fight 
with  V6  the  eend  of  creation  neither;  you'll  find  them  nearer 
to  honie  than  your  athinkin'  on  some  o'  these  days,  you  may 
depend.  But,  colonel,  our  people  present  one  smooth,  un- 
broken surface — do  you  see  ? — of  the  same  uniform  materials, 
which  is  acted  on  all  over  alike  by  one  impulse.  It's  like  a 
lake.  Well,  one  gust  o'  wind  sweeps  all  over  it,  and  puts  all 
in  agitation,  and  makes  the  waters  look  angry  and  dangerous 
— (and  smaller  waters  makes  the  ugliest  seas  always.)  Well, 
as  soon  as  the  squali  is  over,  what  a'most  a  beautiful  pitchin' 
and  heavin'  there  is  for  a  while,  and  then  down  it  all  comes 
as  calm  and  as  stagnant  and  tiresome  as  you  please.  That's 
our  case,     -.mi^m^'m^i^ 

There  is  nothin'  to  check  popular  commotion  here,  nothing 
to  influence  it  for  good,  but  much  to  influence  it  for  evil. 
There  is  one  tone  and  one  key  here ;  strike  the  octaves  where 
■y  ^u  like,  and  when  you  like,  and  they  all  accord. 


r* 


W 


116 


THl  CLOOEMAKBR. 


.'  The  press  can  lash  us  up  to  a  Airy  here  in  two  twos  any 
day,  because  a  chord  struck  at  Maine  vibrates  in  Florida,  and 
when  once  roused,  and  our  dander  fairly  up,  where  are  the 
bodies  above  all  this  commotion,  that  can  soflen,  moderate, 
control,  or  even  influence  it  7  The  law,  we  see,  is  too  ieeble ; 
people  disregard  it ;  the  clergy  can*t,  for  if  they  dare  to  disa- 
gree  with  their  flocks,  their  flocks  drive  *em  out  of  the  pastur* 
in  little  less  than  half  no  time ;  the  legislature  can*t,  for  they 
are  parts  of  the  same  turbid  water  themselves  ;  the  president 
can*t,  for  he  is  nothin'  but  a  heap  of  froth  thrown  up  by  con- 
flictin'  eddies  at  the  central  point,  and  floats  with  the  stream 
that  generated  him.  He  has  no  motion  of  himself,  no  locorno* 
tive  power.  It  atnH  the  drid-log  that  directs  the  river  to  the 
sea,  but  the  river  that  carries  the  drifl-log  on  its  back.  Now 
in  England,  a  lyin\  agitatin',  wicked  press,  demagogues  mul 
political  jugglers,  and  them  sort  o*  cattle,  finds  a  check  in  Wb 
mecutive,  the  great,  the  larned,  the  virtuous,  the  prudent, 
and  the  well  pitablished  nobility,  church,  and  gentry.  It  canU 
deceive  them,  they  are  too  well  informed ; — it  can*t  agitate 
them,  for  they  don*t  act  from  impulse,  but  from  reason.  It 
can't  overturn  'em,  for  they  are  too  strong.  Nothin'  can 
move  so  many  diflerent  bodies  but  somethin'  genutctxe  and 
ffood,  somethin'  that  comes  recommended  by  common  sense 
for  the  public  weal  by  its  intrinsic  excellence.  Then  the 
clergy  bless  it,  the  nobles  sanction  it,  and  the  king  executes 
it.  It's  a  welUconstructed  piece  o'  machinery  that,  colonel, 
and  I  hope  they  won't  go  adabblin'  too  much  with  it ; — thereat 
nothin  like  leavin^  alV»  well  alone.  '  -  t, 

I'll  suppose  a  case  now : — If  the  French  in  Canada  were  to 
rebel — as  they  will,  like  that  priest  that  walked  on  crutches 
till  they  elected  him  Pope,  and  when  he  got  into  the  chair  he 
up  crutches  and  let  'em  fly  at  the  heads  of  the  cardinals,  and 
told  'em,  to  clear  out,  or  he'd  kick  'em  out — they'll  rebel  as 
soon  as  they  can  walk  alone,  for  the  British  have  made  'em  a 
French  colony  instead  of  an  English  one,  and  then  they'll 
throw  away  their  crutches.  If  they  do  rebel,  see  if  our  peo< 
pie  don't  go  to  war,  tho'  the  government  is  to  peace.  They'll 
do  gist  as  they  please,  and  nothin'  can  stop  'em.  What  do 
they  care  for  a  President's  proclamation,  or  a  marshal's  ad- 
vertisements ?  they'd  lynch  one,  or  tar  and  feather  the  other 
of  those  chaps  as  quick  as  wink,  if  they  dared  to  stand  in  the 
way  one  minit.    No;  we  want  the  influence  of  an  indepen- 


'■f 


ClfGLISH   ARISTOORACr. 


117 


dent  united  clergy— of  a  gentry,  of  an  upper  class,  of  a  per- 
manent one  too— of  a  somethin'  or  another,  in  short,  w« 
hav*n\  got,  and  I  fear  never  will  get.  What  little  check  we 
had  in  Washington's  time  is  now  lost ;  our  itenate  has  degen- 
erated into  a  mere  second  house  of  representatives ;  our  legis- 
lators are  nothin*  but  speakin'  trumpets  for  the  mobs  outside 
to  yell  and  howl  thro*.  The  British  Government  is  like  its 
oak ;  it  has  its  roots  spread  out  far  and  wide,  and  is  supported 
and  nourished  on  all  sides,  beHides  its  tap-roots  that  run  right 
straight  down  into  the  ground — (for  all  hard-wood  trees  have 
tap-roots,  you  know.)  Well,  when  a  popular  storm  comes,  it 
bends  to  the  blast,  do  you  see  ?  till  its  fury  is  spent ; — it  gets 
a  few  leaves  shook  down,  and  perhaps  a  rotten  branch  or  two 
twistcul  ofl*;  but  when  the  storm  is  o'er  ihere  it  is  ag'ia  bolt 
upright — as  straight  and  as  stiff*  as  a  poker.  But  our  goveia- 
ment  is  like  one  of  our  forest  trees — all  top  and  no  branches, 
or  downward  roots,  but  a  long,  slim  stalk  with  a  broom-head, 
fed  by  a  few  superficial  fibres,  the  air  and  the  rain ;  and  when 
the  popular  gust  comes  it  blows  it  right  over — a  great,  on- 
wicld](  windfall,  smashin'  oil  afore  it,  and  breakin'  itself  all 
up  to  pieces.  It's  too  holler  and  knotty  to  saw  or  to  split,  or 
to  rip,  uiul  too  shaky  to  plane,  or  do  anythin'  with — all  li'a 
strength  lies  in  growin'  close  alongside  of  others ;  but  it  grows 
too  quick,  and  too  thick  to  be  strong.  It  has  no  intnnnc 
strength : — some  folks  to  England  ain^  up  to  this  themselves, 
and  raely  talk  like  fools.  They  talk  as  if  they  were  in  a 
republic  instead  of  a  limited  monarchy.  If  ever  they  get  up- 
sot,  mark  my  words,  colonel,  the  squall  won't  come  out  of 
royalty,  aristocracy,  or  prelacy,  but  out  o'  democracy — and 
a  plaguy  squally  sea  democracy  is,  I  tell  you ;  wind  gets  up 
in  a  minit ;  you  can't  show  a  rag  of  sail  to  it,  and  if  you 
don't  keep  a  bright  look-out,  and  shorten  sail  in  time,  you're 
wrecked  or  swamped  afore  you  know  where  you  he.  I'd 
rather  live  onder  an  absolute  monarchy  any  day  than  in  a 
democracy,  for  one  tyrant  is  better  nor  a  thousand ;  oppres- 
sion is  better  nor  anarchy,  and  hard  law  better  nor  no  law  at 
all.  Minister,  says  father,  (and  he  put  his  hand  on  his  knees, 
and  rose  up  slowly,  till  he  stretched  himself  all  out,)  I  hav« 
sot  here  and  heerd  more  abuse  of  our  great  nation,  and  our 
free  and  enlightened  citizens,  from  you  this  ev'nin',  than  I 
ever  thought  I  could  have  taken  from  any  livin'  soul  breathin' ; 
it's  more  than  I  can  cleverly  swaller,  or  digest  either,  I  tell 
you. 


'%. 


r  '<- 


\y 


1  ■> 


118 


THE  CLOCKMAKER. 


Now,  sir,  says  he,  and  he  brought  his  two  heels  close 
together,  and  taking  hold  of  his  coat  tail  with  his  led  hand, 
brought  his  right  hand  slowly  round  to  it,  and  then  lifted  it 
gradually  up  as  if  he  was  drawin'  out  a  sword, — and  now, 
sir,  said  he,  makin'  a  lunge  into  the  air  with  his  arm, — 
now,  sir,  if  your  were  not  a  clergyman,  you  should  answer  it 
to  me  with  your  life — you  should,  I  snore.  It's  nothin'  but 
your  cloth  protects  you,  and  an  old  friendship  t  hat  has  sub* 
sisted  atween  us  for  many  years.  You  revolutionary  heroes, 
colonel,  says  minister,  smilin',  are  covered  with  too  much 
glory  to  require  any  aid  from  private  quarrels :  put  up  yoar 
sword,  colonel,  put  it  up,  my  good  friend,  and  let  us  see  how 
the  cider  is.  I  have  talked  so  much,  my  mouth  feels  con- 
siderable rusty  about  the  hinges,  I  vow.  I  guess  we  had, 
says  father,  quite  mollified  by  that  are  little  revolutionary 
hero,— and  I  will  sheath  it ;  and  he  went  thro'  the  form  of 
pu^tin'  a  sword  into  the  scabbard,  and  fetched  his  two  hands 
together  with  a  click  that  sounded  amazin'ly  like  the  rael 
thmg.  Fill  ybur  glass,  colonel,  says  minister,  fill  your  glass, 
and  1  will  give  you  a  toast : — May  ovr  goternment  ^ever 
degenerate  into  a  mob,  nor  our  mobs  grow  strong  enough  to 
become  our  government. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  CONFESSIONS  OF  A  DEPOSED  MINISTER. 

Since  I  parted  with  you,  squire,  at  Windsor,  last  fall,  I've 
been  to  home.  There's  been  an  awful  smash  among  the 
banks  in  the  States — they've  been  blowed  over,  and  snapped 
off,  and^torn  up  by  the  r(X)ts  like  the  pines  to  the  southward 
in  a  tarnado : — awful  work,  you  may  depend.  Everything 
prostrated  as  flat  as  if  it  had  been  chopped  with  an  axe  for 
the  fire;  it's  the  most  dismal  sight  I  ever  beheld.  Shortly 
after  I  left  you  I  got  a  letter  from  Mr.  Hopewell,  a  tellin'  of 
me,  there  was  a  storm  abrewin',  and  advisin'  of  me  to  come 
home  as  soon  as  possible,  to  see  arter  my  stock  in  the  Slick- 
ville  bank,  for  they  were  carryin'  too  much  sail,  and  he  was 
e'en  a'most  certa-n  it  would  capsize  when  the  squall  struck  it. 
Well,  I  rode  night  and  day ;  I  nearly  killed  Old  Clay  and 


CONFESSIONS  OF  A  MINISTER. 


119 


■'1': 


myself  too  (I  lefl  the  old  horse  to  the  St.  John's ;)  but  I  got 
there  in  time,  sold  out  my  shares,  and  gist  secured  myself, 
when  it  failed  tetotally, — it  won't  pay  five  cents  to  the  dollar ; 
a  total  wreck,  stock  and  fluke.  Poor  old  minister,  he  is  nearly 
used  up ;  he  is  small  potatoes  now,  and  few  in  a  hill.  It  made 
me  feel  quite  streaked  to  see  him,  for  he  is  a  rael  good  man, 
a  genutotne  primitive  Christian,  and  one  of  the  old  school. 
Why,  Sam,  says  he,  how  do  you  do,  my  boy  ?  The  sight  of 
you  is  actilly  good  for  sore  eyes.  Oh !  I  am  glad  to  see  you 
once  more  afore  I  go,  it  does  me  good<^-it  happiAes  me,  it 
does,  I  vow  —  for  you  always  seem  kind  o'nateral  to  me. 
I  didn't  think  I  should  ever  take  any  interest  in  anything 
ag'in  ; — but  I  must  have  a  talk  with  you — it  will  do  me  good 
— it  revives  me.  And  now,  Sam,  said  he,  open  that  are  cup- 
board there,  and  take  the  big  key  off  the  nail  on  the  right 
hand  side — it's  the  key  of  the  cellar ;  and  go  the  north  bin, 
and  bring  up  a  bottle  of  the  old  genutoine  cider — it  will 
refresh  you  arter  your  fatigue;  and  give  me  my  pipe  and 
tobacco,  and  we  will  have  a  talk  as  we  used  to  do  in  old  times. 

Well,  says  I,  when  I  returned  and  uncorked  the  bottle,— 
minister,  says  I,  it's  no  use  in  a  talkin', — and  I  took  a  heavy 
pull  at  the  cider — it's  no  use  a  talkin',  but  there's  nothing  like 
that  among  the  Blue-noses  any  how.  I  believe  you  might 
stump  the  universe  for  cider — that  caps  all — it's  super-excel- 
lent— that's  a  fact. 

I  shall  stump  out  of  the  univarse  soon,  Sam,  said  he ;  I'm 
e'en  a'most  done ;  my  body  is  worn  out,  and  my  spirits  are 
none  of  the  best  now, — I'm  a  lone  man.  The  old  men  are 
droppin'  off  fast  into  the  grave,  and  the  young  men  are  troopin' 
off  fast  to  the  far  West ;  and  Slickville  don't  seem  the  place  to 
me  it  used  to  do  no  more.  I  'm  well  stricken  in  years  now ; 
my  life  stretches  over  a  considerable  space  of  the  colony  time, 
and  over  all  our  republic :  my  race  is  run,  my  lamp  is  out, 
and  I  am  ready  to  go.  I  oflen  say,  Lord,  now  lettest  Ihou  thy 
sarvant  depart  in  peace.  Next  birth-day,  if  the  Lord  spares 
me  to  see  it,  I  shall  be  ninety-five  years  old.  Well,  says  I, 
minister,  you've  seen  great  changes  in  your  time,  that's  sar- 
tain  ;  haven't  we  grown  cruel  fast  ?  There  ain't  such  a  nation 
as  ourn  p'rhaps  atween  the  poles,  gist  at  this  present  time. 
We  are  a'most  through  to  the  Pacific,  and  spreadin'  all  over 
this  great  Continent ;  and  our  flag  floats  over  every  part  of 
the  world.    Our  free  and  enlightened  people  do  present  a'most 


'I 


■'/.'I 


"A 


120 


\M 


^>     THJB   CLOOKMAKER.   C)^X3 


a  glorious  spectacle — that's  a  fact.  Well,  he  sot  still  and  said 
nothin' ;  but  takin'  the  pipe  out  of  his  mouth,  he  let  go  a  great 
long  pulT  of  smoke,  and  then  replaced  his  pipe  ag'in,  and  arter 
a  space,  says  he,  Well,  Sam,  what  of  all  that?  Why,  said  I, 
minister,  you  remind  me  of  Joab  Hunter ;  he  whipped  every 
one  that  darst  try  him,  both  in  Slickville  and  its  incinity ;  and 
then  he  sot  down  and  cried  like  a  child,  'cause  folks  were 
afeerd  of  him,  and  none  on  'em  would  fight  him. 
Li  It's  a  law  of  natur',  Sam,  said  he,  that  things  that  grow  too 
fast,  and  grow  too  big,  go  to  decay  soon.  I  am  afeerd  we 
shall  be  rotten  afore  we  are  ripe.  Precosity  ain't  a  good  sign 
in  any  thing.  A  boy  that  outgrows  his  strength,  is  seldom 
healthy :  an  old  head  on  young  shoulders  is  plaguy  apt  to  find 
afore  long  the  shoulders  too  old  and  weak  for  the  head.  I 
am  too  aged  a  man  to  be  led  away  by  names — too  old  a  bird 
to  be  caught  hy  chaff.  Tinsel  and  glitter  don't  deceive  me 
into  a  belief  ihat  they  are  solid,  genuine  metals.  Our  eagle, 
that  we  chose  for  our  emblem,  is  a  fine  bird;  and  an  aspirin' 
bird ;  but  he  it  a  bird  of  prey,  Sam, — too  fond  of  bloody — too 
prone  to  pounce  on  the  weak  and  unwary.  I  don't  like  to  see 
him  hoverin'  over  Texas  and  Canada  so  much.  Our  flag  that 
you  talk  of  is  a  good  flag ;  but  them  stripes,  are  they  prophetic 
or  accidental?  Are  they  the  stripes  of  the  slaves  risin'  up  to 
humble  our  pride  by  exhibitin'  our  shame  on  our  banner  ?  Or 
what  do  they  mean  ?  Freedom,  what  is  it  ?  We  boast  of 
freedom ;  tell  me  what  freedom  is  ?  Is  it  havin'  no  king  and 
no  nobles  ?  Then  we  are  sartainly  free.  But  is  that  freedom  ? 
Is  it  havin'  no  established  religion  ?  Then  we  are  free  enough, 
gracious  knows.  Is  it  in  havin'  no  hereditary  government,  or 
vigorous  executive  ?  Then  we  are  free,  beyond  all  doubt. 
;  Yes,  we  know  what  we  are  atalkin'  about;  we  are  wise  in 
our  generation,  wiser  than  the  children  of  light-^-we  are  as 
free  as  the  air  of  heaven.  What  that  air  is,  p'rhaps  they 
know  who  talk  of  it  so  flippantly  and  so  glibly ;  but  it  may 
not  be  so  free  to  all  comers  as  our  country  is.  But  what  is 
freedom  ?  My  little  grandson,  little  Sammy,  (I  had  him 
named  arter  you,  Sam,)  told  me  yesterday  I  was  behind  the 
enlightenment  of  the  age  ;  perhaps  you,  who  are  ahead  of  it, 
will  answer  me.  What  is  freedom  ?  A  colt  is  free, — he  is 
unrestrained, — he  acknowledges  no  master, — no  law,  but  the 
law  of  natur'.  A  man  may  get  his  brains  kicked  out  among 
wild  horses,  but  still  they  are  free.     Is  our  freedom  like  that 


r-'  { 


coiirEssioirs  or  a  HiiristER 


t« 


of  the  wild  horse  or  the  wild  ass  1  If  not,  what  is  it  ? — Is  it 
in  the  right  of  openly  preaching  infidelity  t  Is  it  in  a  lieen^ 
tious  press  ?  Is  it  in  the  outpourings  of  popular  spirits  t  Is 
it  *.n  the  absence  of  all  subordination,  or  the  insufficiency  of 
all  legal  or  moral  restraint  ?  I  will  define  it.  It  is  that  hap- 
py condition  of  mankind  where  people  are  assembled  in  a 
community ;  where  there  is  no  government,  no  law,  and-  no 
religion,  but  such  as  are  imposed  from  day  to  day  by  a  mob 
of  freemen.     That  i«  freedom. 

«">  Why,  minister,  said  I,  what  on  airth  ails  you,  to  make  you 
talk  arter  that  fashion?  If  you  had  abin  drinkin'  cny  of  tha 
are  old  cider,  I  do  think  I  should  have  believed  it  had  got  into 
your  brain,  for  it's  pretty  considerable  stiff  that,  and  tarnation 
heady.  How  can  you  go  for  to  say  we  have  no  government, 
no  law,  and  no  religion,  when  ii's  ginerally  allowed  we  are 
the  most  free  and  enlightened  people  on  the  face  of  the  airth  ? 
— I  didn't  say  thaty  Sam ;  I  was  definin'  freedom  in  its  gene- 
ral acceptation.  We  have  got  a  government  somewhere,  if 
folks  could  only  find  it.  When  they  sarched  for  it  at  Texas, 
they  said  it  was  to  Canady  iines ;  and  when  they  go  to  Cana- 
dy  lines  to  seek  it,  they  say  it  is  gone  to  the  Seminole  war; 
and  when  they  get  there,  they'll  tell  'em  they've  been  lookin' 
for  it ;  but  it  hasn't  arrived  yet,  and  they  wish  to  gracious  it 
would  make  haste  and  come,  for  if  it  wor  there,  three  thou- 
sand Injians  couldn't  beat  us  three  years  runnin',  and  defy  us 
yet.  We've  got  law  too )  and  when  the  judges  go  on  the  cir- 
cuit, the  mob  holds  its  courts,  and  keepf  the  peace. — ^Whose 
commission  does  the  mob  hold  ? — The  people's  commission. 
And  whose  commission  does  the  supreme  judge  hold  t — The 
Pi^esident's.  Which  is  at  the  top  of  the  pot  then  ?  Can  the 
judges  punish  the  mob  ? — No ;  but  the  mob  can  punish  the 
judges.  Which  is  the  supreme  court,  then  ?  No ;  we  have 
law.  Yes,  said  I,  and  the  prophets  too ;  for  if  you  ain't  a 
prophet  of  evil,  it's  a  pity.  I  fairly  felt  ryled,  for  if  there  is 
any  thing  that  raises  my  dander,  and  puts  my  Bbeiiezer  up, 
it  is  to  hear  a  man  say  any  thing  ag'in  the  glorious  institutions 
of  our  great,  splendid  country.  '- 

There  you  go  ag'in,  said  he ;  you  don't  know  what  you  are 
atalkin'  about ;  a  prophet  used  to  be  a  person  who  foretold 
future  events  to  come.  What  they  be  now  in  Webster's  new 
dictionary,  I  don't  know ;  but  I  guess  they  now  be  those  who 
foretell  things  arter  they  happen.  I  warn't  aprophesvin' — I 
11 


1^ 


**■ 


•<».l 


! 


■<•     ■( 


123 


THB  CLOCKMAUBR.    "%/^^^ 


was  speakin'  of  things  afore  my  eyes.  Your  ideas  of  pr<^het» 
are  about  as  clear  as  your  ideas  of  freedcmi.  Yes,  weVe  got 
law,  and  written  law  too,  as  well  as  written  constitutions— T(for 
we  dei^ise  that  onwritten  law,  the  common  law  of  the  igno- 
rant British ;  we  despise  it  as  a  relic  of  barbarism,  of  the  age 
of  darkness  and  fable,)— and  as  soon  as  our  cases  that  are 
tried  afore  the  mob  courts  are  collected  and  reported  by  some 
of  our  eminent  mob  orators,  these  state  trials  will  have  great 
authority.  They'll  be  quoted  to  England  with  great  respect, 
I  know ;  for  they've  got  orators  of  the  same  breed  there  too,-— 
the  same  gentlcj,  mild,  Christian-like  philanthropists.  Pity 
you  hadn't  sported  that  kind  of  doctrine,  says  I,  minister, 
afore  our  glorious  revolution.  The  British  would  have  made 
a  bishop  of  you,  or  a  Canter  Berry,  or  whatever  they  call 
their  Protestant  pope.  Yes,  you  might  have  had  the  cannon 
law  and  the  tythe  law  enforced  with  the  baggonet  law. 
Abusin'  the  British  don't  help  us,  Sam.  I  am  not  their  advo- 
cate,  but  the  advocate  for  law,  just  and  equal  law,  impartially 
administered,  (voluntarily  obeyed,  and,  when  infring^,  duly 
enforced.  Yes,  we  have  religion,  too,  from  the  strict. good 
old  platform,  through  every  variety  and  shade  of  tinker,  mor- 
monite,  and  mountebank,  down  to  the  infidel,— men  who 
preach  peace  and  good  will,  but  who  fight  and  hate  each  other 
like  the  devil.  Idolatry  like  ourn  you  won't  find  even 
among  the  heathen.  We  are  image  worshippers :  we  have 
two  images.  There's  the  golden  image,  which  all  men  wor- 
ship here,  and  the  American  image.  The  American  image  1 
said  I ;  do  tell :  what  on  airth  is  that  ?  I  do  believe  in  my 
heart,  minister,  that  you  have  taken  leave  of  your  senses. 
What  onder  the  sun  is  the  American  image  ?  An  image  of 
perfection,  Sam,  said  he;  fine  phrenological  head  —  high 
forehead — noble  countenance — intelligent  face — limbs  Her- 
culean, but  well  proportioned — graceful  attitude-— a  figure 
of  great  elegance  and  beauty, — the  personification  of  every 
thing  that  is  great  and  good, — that  is  the  American  image, 
— thiu  we  set  up  and  admire,  and  every  body  thinks  it  is 
image  of  himself.     Oh  !  it  is  humiliatin',  it  is  degradin'; 


an 


but  we  are  all  brought  up  to  this  idolatry  from  our  cradle : 
we  are  taught  first  to  worship  gold,  and  then  to  idolize  our- 
selves. 

Yes,  we  have  a  government,  have  a  law,  and  have  a  reli- 
gion,— and  a  precious  government,  law,  and  religion,  it  is.    I 


f'tl. 


I) 


of  prophet* 
w,  weVe  got 
tutiona— p(ibr 
of  the  igno- 
h  of  the  age 
ses  that  are 
ted  by  some 
htLve  great 
feat  respect, 
there  too,— 
pists.     Pity 
I,  minister, 
have  made 
>r  they  call 
the  cannon 
^gonet  law. 
their  advo- 
impartially 
ing^,  duly 
strict .  good 
inker,  mor- 
h-men  who 
•  each  other 
find  even 
i:  we  have 
1  men  wor- 
!an  image! 
eve  in  my 
)ur  senses, 
i  image  of 
«d  — high 
imbs  Her- 
—a  figure 
»  of  every 
an  image, 
links  it  is 
degradin'; 
ir  cradle: 
olize  our- 

ve  a  reli. 
^,  it  is.    I 


OOHTFESSlOlfS  or   A   MINISTER. 


133 


was  once  led  to  believe  we  had  made  a  great  discovery,  and 
were  tryin'  a  great  experiment  in  the  art  of  self'goverDment, 
for  the  benefit  of  mankind,  as  well  as  ourselves.  Oh,  delusion 
of  delusions! — It  had  been  tried  before  and  signally  failed,  and 
tried  on  our  own  ground  too,  and  under  our  own  eyes.  We 
are  copies  and  not  originals — base  imitators.  When  he  got 
this  far,  I  seed  how  it  was — he  was  delirious,  poor  old  gentle- 
man ;  the  sight  of  me  was  too  much  for  him ;  his  narvos  was 
excited,  and  he  was  aravin*;  his  face  was  flushed,  his  eye 
glared,  and  looked  quite  wild-like.  It  touched  me  to  the  heart, 
lor  I  loved  him  like  a  father,  and  his  intellects  were  of  the  first 
order,  afore  old  age.  like  a  cloud,  had  overshadowed  'em.  I 
thought  I  should  have  boohooed  right  out.  So,  instead  of 
contradictin*  him,  I  humoured  him.  ^iVhere  was  it  tried, 
minister  ?  said  I ;  who  had  the  honour  afore  us  ?  for  let  us  give 
the  credit  where  it  is  due.  The  North  American  Indians,  said 
he,  had  tried  it  afore  in  all  its  parts.  They  had  no  kinc,  no 
nobles,  no  privileged  class,  no  established  religion.  Their 
mobs  made  laws,  Lynch  law  too,  for  they  had  burned  people 
before  the  citizens  at  Mobile  were  ever  bom,  or  were  even 
thought  on,  and  invaded  also  other  folks*  territory  by  stealth, 
and  then  kept  possession.  They,  too,  elected  their  presidents 
and  other  officers,  and  did  all  and  every  thing  we  do.  They, 
too,  had  their  federal  government  of  independent  states,  and 
their  congress  lAid  solemn  lookin'  boastin*  orators.  They, 
too,  had  their  long  knives  as  well  as  Arkansas  folks  have, 
.  and  werr>  as  fond  of  blood.  And  where  are  they  now  ?  Where 
is  their  great  experiment  ?— their  great  spectacle  of  a  pec^le 
governiir  themselves  ?  Gone  I  where  oum  will  go ;  gone  with 
the  years  that  are  fled,  never  to  return !  Oh,  Sam,  Sam !  my 
heart  is  sick  within  me.  Where  now  is  our  beautifUl  republic 
bequeathed  to  us  by  Washington,  and  the  sages  and  heroes 
of  the  revolution  ?  Overwhelmed  and  destroyed  by  the  mighty 
waters  of  democracy.  Nothin'  is  now  left  but  a  dreary  waste 
of  angry  waters,  moved  and  excited  by  every  wind  that  blows, 
and  agitated  by  every  conflictin*  current,  onsafe  to  navigate, 
fearful  even  to  look  upon. 

This  is  is  too  excitin'  a  subject,  said  I,  minister,  and  admits' 
of  great  deal  bein*  said  on  both  sides.     It  ain't  worth  our  while 
to  get  warm  on  it.     As  for  an  established  church,  said  I,  you 
know  what  an  hubbub  they  made  in  England  to  get  clear  of 
that  are.    I  don't  think  we  need  envy  'em,  unless  they'U 


/; 


■■i 


134 


THE  OLOCKMAKER. 


establish  our  platform.  If  they  did  that^  said  I,  and  I  looked 
up  anJi  winked,  I  don't  know  aa  1  wouldn't  vote  for  it  myself. 
Sam,  said  bp,  we  are  goin'  to  have  an  established  church ;  it 
may  be  a  very  good  church,  and  is  a  great  deal  better  than 
many  we  have ;  but  still  it  ain't  thr%  church  of  the  Pilgrims. 
What  church,  said  I,  minister  ?  Why,  said  he,  the  Catholic 
Church ;  before  long  it  will  be  the  established  church  of  the 
United  States.  Poor  old  man,  only  think  of  his  getting  such 
a  freak  as  that  are  in  his  head ;  it  was  melancholy  to  hear  him 
talk  such  nonsense,  warn't  it?  What  makes  you  think  so? 
said  I.  Why,  said  he,  Sam,  the  majority  here  do  everything. 
The  majority  voted  at  first  against  an  establishment ;  a  ma- 
jority may  at  last  vote  for  it ;  the  voice  of  the  majority  is  law. 
Now  the  Catholics  are  fast  gainin'  a  numerical  majority. 
Don't  you  believe  census  or  other  tables  ?  I  know  it,  and  I 
could  easily  correct  Cie  errors  of  the  cendus. 

They  gain  constantly— they  gain  more  by  emigration,  more 
by  natural  increase  in  proportion  to  their  numbers,  more  by 
intermarriages^,  adoption,  and  conversion,  than  the  Protestants. 
With  their  exclusive  views  of  salvation,  and  peculiar  tenets—^ 
as  soon  as  they  have  the  majority  this  becomes  a  Catholic 
country,  with  a  Catholic  government,  with  the  Catholic  reli- 
gion established  by  law.  Is  this  a  great  change  ?  A  greater 
change  has  taken  place  among  the  British,  the  Medes,  and 
Persians,  of  Europe,  the  nolumus  leges  mutari  people.  What 
then  will  the  natural  order  and  progress  of  events  now  in 
train  here  not  produce  ?  I  only  speak  of  this — I  don't  dread 
it ;  I  hope,  and  trust,  and  pray  that  it  may  be  so ;  not  because 
I  think  them  right,  for  I  don't,  but  because  they  are  a  Chris» 
tian  church,  an  old  church,  a  consistent  church,  and  because 
it  is  a  church,  and  any  sect  is  better  than  the  substitution  of  a 
cold,  speculative  philosophy  for  religion,  as  we  see  too 
frequently  among  us.  We  are  too  greedy  to  be  moral,  too 
self-sufficient  to  be  pious,  and  too  independent  to  be  religious. 
United  under  one  head,  and  obedient  to  that  head,  with  the 
countenance  and  aid  of  the  whole  Catholic  world,  what  can 
they  not  achieve  ?  Yes,  it  is  the  only  cure  that  time  and  a 
kind  and  merciful  Providence  has  in  store  for  us.  We  shall 
be  a  Catholic  country.  <;  r^       >    ?;?  '  ^  y^jfi#j, 

Sam,  my  heart  is  broken ! — my  last  tie  is  severed,  and  I 
am  now  descendin'  to  the  grave  full  of  years  and  full  of 
sorrows  1    I  have  received  my  dismissal ;  my  elders  have 


ooirrsssioirs  of  a  miiiister. 


125 


waited  upon  me  with  the  appallin*  information  that  they  have 
given  a  call  to  a  Unitarian,  and  have  no  further  need  of.  my 
services.  My  labours,  Sam,  were  not  worth  having — that*8  a 
fact ;  I  am  now  old,  grey-headed,  and  infirm,  and  worn  out  in 
the  service  of  m^  master.  It  was  time  for  me  to  retire. 
Tempus  abire  tibi  est.  (I  hope  you  hav'n*t  forgot  what  little 
Latin  you  had,  Sam.)  I  don't  blame  'em  for  that : — but  a 
Unitarian  in  my  pulpit !  It  has  killed  me — I  cannot  survive 
it ;  and  he  cried  like  a  child.  I  looked  on  'em,  said  he,  as 
my  children — I  loved  'em  as  my  own — taught  'em  their  infant 
prayers — I  led  'em  to  the  altar  of  the  Lord,  I  fed  'em  with  the 
bread  of  life,  encouraged  'em  wlien  they  was  right,  reproved 
'em  when  they  was  wrong,  and  watched  over  'em  always. 
Where  now  is  my  flock  ?  and  what  account  «ihall  I  give  of  the 
shepherd  ?  Oh,  Sam,  willin'ly  would  I  offer  up  my  life  for 
'em  as  a  sacrifice,  but  it  may  not  be.  My  poor  flock,  my 
dear  children,  my  lost  sheep,  that  I  should  have  lived  to  have 
seen  this  day  I — and  he  hid  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  moaned 
bitterly. 

Poor  old  gentleman,  '^*  had  been  too  much  for  him  ;  it  was 
evident  that  it  had  affected  his  head  as  wiell  as  his  heart.  And 
this  I- will  say,  that  a  better  head  and  a  better  heart  there  ain't 
this  day  in  the  United  States  of  America  than  minister  Joshua 
Hopewell's  of  Slickville.  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  speak  so 
affectionately  of  him,  said  I.  It  shows  there  are  good  and 
warm  hearts  in  Slickville  besides  his :  but  do  you  really  think 
he  was  delirious  ?  No  doubt  in  the  world  on  it,  said  he.  If 
you  had  aseen  him  and  heerd  him,  you  would  have  felt  that 
his  troubles  had  swompified  him.  It  was  gone  goose  with 
him, — that's  a  fact.  That  he  spoke  under  the  influence  of 
excited  feelings,  I  replied,  and  with  a  heart  filled  with  grief 
and  indignation,  there  can  be  no  dobbt ;  but  I  see  no  evidence 
of  delirium ;  en  the  contrary,  his  remarks  strike  me  as  most 
eloquent  and  original.  They  have  made  a  great  impression 
upon  me,  and  I  shall  long  remember  the  confesnont  of  a 
deposed  miniater.      V.  i" 

>•^  11*         i  >"  .^-  ■  ,v,:. 


i?-;/n':v:^.' 


rit 


136 


THB   CLOOKMAKBR. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


I 


CANADIAN   POLITICS. 

Tub  next  day  we  reached  Clare,  a  township  wholly  settled 
by  descendants  of  the  Acadian  French.  The  moment  you 
pass  the  bridge  at  Scissiboo,  you  become  sensible  that  you  are 
in  a  foreign  country.  And  here  I  must  enter  my  protest 
against  that  American  custom  of  changing  the  old  and  appro- 
priate names  of  places,  for  the  new  and  inappropriate  ones 
of  Europe.  Scissiboo  is  the  Indian  name  of  this  long  and 
beautiful  river,  and  signifies  the  great  deep,  and  should  have 
been  retained,  not  merely  because  it  was  its  proper  name, 
but  on  account  of  its  antiquity,  its  legends,  and,  above  all, 
because  the  river  had  a  name,  which  the  minor  streams  of  the 
province  havei  not.  A  country,  in  my  opinion  is  robbed  of 
half  of  its  charms  when  its  streams,  like  those  of  Nova 
Scotia,  have  no  other  names  than  those  of  the  proprietors  of 
the  lands  through  which  they  pass,  and  change  them  as  often 
as  the  soil  changes  owners.  Scissiboo  sounded  too  savage 
and  uncouch  in  the  ears  of  the  inhabitants,  and  they  changed 
li  to  Weymouth,  but  they  must  excuse  me  for  adopting  the 
old  reading. 

I  am  no  democrat;  I  like  old  names  and  the  traditions 
belonging  to  them.  I  am  no  friend  to  novelties.  There  has 
been  a  re-action  in  Upper  Canada.  The  movement  party  in 
that  colony,  with  great  form  and  ceremony,  conferred  the 
name  of  Little  York  upon  the  capital  of  the  colony ;  but  the 
Conseirvatives  have  adopted  the  ancient  order  of  things,  and 
with  equal  taste  and  good  feeling  have  restored  the  name  of 
Toronto.  I  hope  to  see  the  same  restoration  a'  Scissiboo,  at 
•  Tatam-agouche,  and  other  places  where  the  sfuiler  has  been. 

There  is  something  very  interesting  in  these  Acadians. 
They  are  the  lineal  descendants  of  those  who  made  the  first 
effective  settlement  in  North  America,  in  1606,  under  De 
Monts,  and  have  retained  to  this  day  the  dress,  customs, 
language,  and  religion  of  their  ancestors.  They  are  a  peace- 
able, contented,  and  happy  people;  and  have  escaped  the 
temptations  of  English  agitators,  French  atheists,  and  domestic 
demagogues.  ' 


r  t' 


CAJTADIAir    POLITICS. 


187 


»ny  settled 
>nient  you 
at  you  ore 
y  protest 
nd  oppro- 
iriate  ones 
long  and 
lould  have 
per  name, 
above  all, 
»ms  of  the 
robbed  of 
of  Nova 
irietors  of 
m  as  often 

00  savage 
y  changed 
opting  the 

traditions 
rhere  has 
t  party  in 
ferrcd  the 
J  but  the 
lings,  and 

name  of 
ssiboo,  at 
has  been, 
^cadians. 

1  the  first 
nder  De 
customs, 
a  peace- 
aped  the 
domestic 


I  have  often  been  amazed,  said  the  Clockmaker,  when 
travelling  among  the  Canadians,  to  see  what  curious  critters 
they  be.  They  leave  the  marketin'  to  the  women,  and  their 
business  to  their  notaries,  the  care  of  their  souls  to  the  priests, 
and  of  their  bodies  to  their  doctors,  and  resarve  only  frolickin', 
dancin',  singin',  fidlin*,  and  gasconadin*  to  themselves.  They 
are  as  merry  as  crickets,  and  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long. 
Don't  care  a  straw  how  the  world  jogs,  who's  up  or  whas 
dov/n,  who  reigns  or  who  is  degpsed.  Ask  'em  who  is  King, 
and  they  believe  Papinor  is ;  who  is  Pope,  and  they  believe 
their  bishop  is ;  who  is  the  best  off  in  the  world,  and  they 
believe  Mount-Sheer  Chatterbox  Habitan  is.  How  is  it  then, 
said  I,  they  are  just  on  the  eve  of  a  rebellion  ?  If  they  are 
so  contented  and  happy  as  you  represent  them,  what  can 
induce  them  to  involve  the  country  in  all  the  horrors  of  a  civil 
war ;  and  voluntarily  incur  all  the  penalties  of  treason,  and 
the  miseries  of  a  revolution  ? 

■  Because,  said  he,  they  are  gist  what  I  have  described  them 
to  be — because  they  don't  know  nothin'.  They  are  as  weak 
as  Taunton  water,  and  all  the  world  knows  that  that  won't 
even  run  down  hill.  They  won't  do  nothin'  but  gist  as  they 
are  bid.  Their  notaries  and  doctors  tell  'em, — them  sacra 
diabola  foutera  English  are  agoin'  by  and  bv  to  ship  'em  out 
of  the  country ;  and  in  the  mean  time  rob  em,  plunder  'em, 
and  tax  'em ; — hang  their  priests,  seize  their  galls,  and  play 
hell  and  Tommy  with  them,  and  all  because  they  speak 
French.  Hay  beang,  says  Habitan,  up  and  at  them  then,  and 
let  'em  have  it !  But  how  can  we  manage  all  them  redcoats  ? 
Oh !  says  their  leaders,  old  France  will  send  a  fleet  and 
sodgers,  and  Yankies  will  send  an  army.  Yankies  very  fond 
of  us, — all  larnin'  French  apurpose ; — very  fond  of  Catholics 
too,  all  thro'  New  England ; — great  friend  of  ourn, — hate 
Enirlish  like  the  diable.  Allong  dong,  then,  they  say ;  up 
and  cut  their  throats !  and  when  winter  comes,  burn  'em  up, 
hang,  'em  up, — use  'em  up !  One  grand  French  nation  we  ' 
shall  have  here  then ;  all  French,  and  no  sacra  English. 

But  do  they  really  talk  such  nonsense  to  them  as  that,  or 
aje  they  such  fools  to  believe  it  ?  Fact,  I  assure  you  ;  they 
are  so  ignorant  they  believe  it  all,  and  will  believe  anything 
they  tell  'em.  It  is  a  comfortable  ignorance  they  are  in  too, 
for  they  are  actilly  the  happiest  critters  on  the  face  of  the 
ahrth, — but  then  it  is  a  dangerous  ignorance,  for  it  is  so  easily 


■MMMMIM 


r' 


128 


THB  CLOOKMAKBR. 


imposed  upon.  I  had  been  always  led  to  believe,  I  Mid,  that 
it  waa  a  great  constitutional  question  that  was  at  stake,— the 
right  to  stop  the  supplies;  and  from  hearing  there  were  ao 
many  speculative  and  theoretical  points  of  dispute  between 
them  and  the  English,  as  to  the  machinery  of  the  local 
government,  I  thought  they  were  at  least  an  enlightened  peo- 
pie,  and  one  that,  feeling  they  had  rights,  were  determined  to 
maintain  those  rights  at  all  hazards.  Oh,  dear,  said  the 
Clockmaker,  ^vhere  have  yoi^  been  all  your  born  days,  not  to 
know  better  nor  that?  They  don't  know  nothin'  about  the 
matter,  nor  donH  want  to.  Even  them  that  talk  about  those 
things  in  the  Assembly,  don*t  know  much  more ;  but  they  gist 
know  enough  to  ax  for  what  they  know  they  canU  get,  then 
call  it  a  grievance,  and  pick  a  quarrel  about  it.  Why,  theyVe 
got  all  they  want,  and  more  nor  they  could  have  under  us,  or 
any  other  power  on  the  face  of  the  airth  than  the  English, — 
ay,  more  than  they  could  have  if  they  were  on  their  own 
hook.  They  ,have  their  own  laws, — and  plaguy  queer,  old- 
fashioned  laws  they  are  too, — Old  Scratch  himself  couldnU 
understand  'em ;  their  parly  voo  language,  religion,  old  cus- 
toms  and  usages,  at.  J  everything  else,  and  no  taxes  at  all. 
i  If  such  is  the  case,  what  makes  their  leaders  discontented  ? 
There  must  be  something  wrong  somewhere,  when  there  is  so 
much  disaffection.  All  that  is  the  matter  may  be  summed  up 
in  one  word,  said  the  Clockmaker,  French^ — devil  anything 
else  but  that — French.  You  can't  make  an  Englishman  out 
of  a  Frenchman,  any  more  than  you  can  make  a  white  man 
out  of  a  nigger ;  if  the  skin  ain't  different,  the  tongue  is.  But, 
said  I,  though  you  cannot  make  the  Ethiopian  change  his 
skin,  you  can  make  the  Frenchman  change  his  language.  Ay, 
now  you  have  it,  I  guess,  said  he ;  you've  struck  the  right 
nail  on  the  head  this  time.  The  reform  they  want  in  Canada 
is  to  give  'em  English  laws  and  English  language.  Make  'em 
use  it  in  courts  and  public  matters,  and  make  an  English  and 
not  a  French  colony  of  it ;  and  you  take  the  sting  out  o'  the 
snake, — the  critter  becomes  harmless.  Them  doctors  pyson 
'em.  Them  chaps  go  to  France,  get  inoculated  there  with 
infidelity,  treason,  and  republicanism,  and  come  out  and 
spread  it  over  the  country  like  small  pox.  They  got  a  bad 
set  o'  doctors  in  a  gineral  way,  I  tell  you,  and  when  rebellion 
breaks  out  there,  as  you'll  see  it  will  to  a  sartainty  by  and  by, 
you'll  find  them  doctors  leadin'  them  on  everywhere, — the 


a 


i    '■  I 


;;ii- 


OAWAOIAIf    POLITICS. 


120 


very  worst  fellors  among  'em, — boys  of  the  glorious  July 
days  to  Paris.  Well,  it  is  no  use  atalkin',  squire,  about  it ;  it 
is  a  pity,  too,  to  see  the  poor  simple  critters  so  imposed  upon 
as  they  be,  for  they'll  catch  it,  if  they  do  rebel,  to  a  sartamty. 
Gist  as  sure  as  Pappinor  takes  that  step  he  is  done  for, — he's 
a  refugee  in  six  week^  in  the  States,  with  a  price  set  on  his 
head.  Tor  the  critter  won't  fight.  The  English  all  say  he 
wants  the  clear  grit — ain't  got  the  stuiT— no  ginger  in  him — 
it's  all  talk.  ^ 

The  last  time  1  was  to  Montreal,  I  seed  a  good  deal  of  the 
leaders  of  the  French ;  they  were  very  civil  to  me,  and  bought 
ever  so  many  of  my  clocks, — they  said  they  liked  to  trade 
with  their  American  fricndeT,  it  was  proper  to  keep  up  a  good 
feelin'  among  neighbours.  There  was  one  Doctor  Jodrie 
there,  a'most  everlastin'ly  at  my  heels  aintroducin'  of  me  to 
his  countrymen,  and  recommendin'  them  to  trade  with  me. 
Well,  I  went  to  his  shop  one  night,  and  when  he  heerd  my 
voice,  he  come  out  of  a  back  room,  and,  said  he,  walk  in  here, 
Mount-Sheer  Slick,  I  want  you  for  one  particular  use  ;  come 
along  with  me,  my  good  fellor,  there  are  some  friends  here 
takin'  of  a  glass  o'  grog  along  with  me,  and  a  pipe ; — won't 
you  join  us  ?  Well,  said  I,  I  don't  care  if  I  do ;  I  won't  be 
starched.  A  pipe  wouldn't  be  amiss  gist  now,  says  I,  nor  a 
glass  of  grog  neither  ;  so  in  I  went ;  but  my  mind  misgived 
me  there  was  some  mischief  abrewin'  in  there,  as  I  seed  he 
bolted  the  door  arter  him,  and  so  it  turned  out. 

The  room  was  full  of  chaps,  all  doctors,  and  notaries,  and 
members  of  assenibly,  with  little  short  pipes  in  their  mouths, 
achattin*  away  like  so  many  monkeys,  and  each  man  had  his 
tumbler  o'  hot  rum  and  water  afore  him  on  the  table.  Sons 
o'  liberty,  says  he,  here's  a  brother,  Mount*Sheer  Slick,  a  haul 
o'  jaw  clockmaker.  Well,  they  ail  called  out.  Five  Clock- 
maker  1  No,  says  I,  not  five  clockmakers,  but  only  one ;  and 
hardly  trade  enough  for  him  neither,  I  guess.  Well,  they 
hawhawed  like  any  thing,  for  they  beat  all  natur'  for  larfin', 
them  French.  Five  is  same  as  hurrah,  says  he, — long  life  to 
you  !  Oh  I  says  !,  I  onderstand  now.  No  fear  of  that,  any 
how  when  I  am  in  the  hands  of  a  doctor.  Yankee  hit  him 
hard  that  time,  be  gar !  said  a  little  under-sized  parchment- 
skinned  lookin'  lawyer.  May  be  so,  said  the  doctor ;  but  a 
feller  would  stand  as  good  a  chance  for  his  life  in  my  hands, 
I  guess,  as  he  would  in  youm,  if  he  was  to  })e  defended  in 


180 


THE  CLOOKMAMBII. 


court  by  vou.  The  critters  all  yelled  right  out  at  this  joke, 
,and  struck  the  table  with  their  fists  till  the  glasaet.  all  rang 
agMn.  Bon,  bon,  savs  thev.  Says  the  Doctor,  I)onH  vou 
understand  French,  Mr.  Slick  7  No,  says  I,  not  one  word ;  I 
wish  to  goodness  I  did  though,  for  I  find  it  very  awkward 
sometimes  atradin*  without  it.  (I  always  said  so  when  I  was 
axed  that  are  question,  so  as  to  hear  what  was  agoin*  on  :  it 
helped  me  in  my  business  considerable.  I  could  always  tell 
whether  they  actilly  wanted  a  clock  or  not,  or  whether  they 
had  the  monev  to  pay  for  it?  they  let  out  all  their  secrets.) 
Would  you  like  to  see  a  bull-bait?  said  he;  we  are  goin*  to 
bait  a  bull  winter  arter  next, — grand  fun,  said  he ;  we'll  put 
fire  to  his  tail, — stick  squibs  and  matches  into  his  hide, — make 
him  kick,  and  roar,  and  toss,  like  the  diable :  then  weMl  put 
the  dbgs  on,  worry  him  so  long  as  he  can  stand, — then,  tarn 
him,  kill  him,  skin  him,  and  throw  his  stinkin'  carcass  to  the 
dogs  and  de  crows.  Yes,  said  the  other  fellors,  kill  him,  damn 
him, — kill  hipo!  and  they  got  up  and  waved  their  glasses  over 
their  heads  ;-~death  to  the  beast  **dla  lanteme" 

Says  one  of  them  in  French  to  the  doctor,  Prenny  garde,-— 
are  you  sure,  are  you  clear  he  is  not  English  I  Oh,  sartain, 
said  he  in  the  same  lingo;  he  is  a  Yankee  clockmakin* 
cheatin'  vagabond  from  Boston,  or  thereabouts ;  but  we  must 
court  him, — we  must  be  civil  to  them  if  we  expect  their  aid. 
If  we  once  get  clear  o'  the  English  we  will  soon  rid  ourselves 
of  them  too.  They  are  chips  of  the  old  block,  them  i  ankees ; 
a  bad  breed  on  both  sides  o*  the  water.  Then  turnin'  to  me, 
says  he,  I  was  just  desirin*  these  gentlemen,  Mr.  Slick,  to 
dnnk  your  health,  r^nd  that  of  the  United  States.  Thank  you, 
says  I,  I  believe  our  people  and  the  French  onderstand  each 
other  very  well ;  a  very  dirinteritted  friendship  on  both  sides. 
Oh,  sartain,  says  he,  aputtin'  of  his  hand  on  his  heart,  and 
lookin'  spooney.  One  sentiment,  one  grand  sympathy  of 
feelin',  one  real  amitty  yea.  Your  health,  sir,  said  he ;  and 
they  all  stood  up  ag'in  and  made  a  deuce  of  a  roar  over  it. 
Five  Americanes ! 

I  hope  you  have  good  dogs,  said  I,  for  your  bulUbait  ?  Oh, 
true  breed  and  no  mistake,  said  he.  It  takes  a  considerable 
of  a  stiff  dog,  says  I,  and  one  of  the  real  grit,  to  face  a  bull. 
Them  fellors,  when  they  get  their  danders  up,  are  plaguy 
unsafe  critters ;  they'll  toss  and  gore  the  common  kind  like 
nothin', — make  all  fly  ag'in :  it  ain't  over-safe  to  come  too 


K 


•  *1 


.^■'\ 


4'*.. 


4' 


H 


OAKAOlAlf    POLITICS. 


dear  'em  when  they  are  once  fairly  raited.  If  there  if  any- 
thin*  in  natur*  I'm  afeerd  on,  it's  a  bull  when  he  is  ryled.  Oh 
yet,  eaid  he,  we  got  the  dogs,  plenty  of  'em  too,— genuine 
breed  from  old  I^nce,  kept  pure  ever  since  it  came  here, 
except  a  slight  touch  of  the  fox  and  the  wolf;  the  one  makea 
'em  I'un  faster,  and  t'other  bite  sharper.  It's  a  grand  breed. 
Thinks  I  to  myself,  I  onderstand  you,  my  hearties.  I  see  your 
drift ;  go  the  whole  figur',  and  do  the  thing  genteel.  Try 
your  hand  at  it,  will  you  ?  and  if  John  Bull  don't  send  you 
aflyin'  into  the  air  sky.high,  in  'little  less  than  half  no  time, 
it*8  a  pity.  A  pretty  set  o'  yelpin'  curs  you  be  to  face  such  a 
critter  as  he  is,  ain't  you  ?  Why,  the  very  moment  he  begins 
to  paw  and  to  roar,  you'll  run  sneakin'  off  with  your  tails 
atween  your  legs,  a  yelpin'  and  a  squeelin'  as  if  Old  Nick 
himself  was  arter  you. 

Great  man,  your  Washington,  says  the  doctor.  Very,  says 
I ;  no  greater  ever  lived — p'r'aps  the  world  never  seed  his 
ditto.  And  Papinor  is  a  great  man,  too,  said  he.  Very,  said 
I,  especially  in  the  talking  line — he'd  beat  Washingtcm  at  that 
game,  I  guess,  by  a  long  chalk.  I  hope,  says  he,  some  day 
or  another,  Mr.  Slick,  and  not  far  off  neither,  we  shall  be  a 
free  and  independent  people,  like  you.  We  shall  be  the  Prance 
of  America  afore  long — the  grand  nation — ^the  great  empire. 
It's  our  distiny — everything  foretells  it — I  can  see  it  as  plain 
as  can  be.  Thinks  I  to  myself,  this  is  a  good  time  to  broach 
our  interest ;  and  if  there  is  to  be  a  break-up  here,  to  put 
in  a  spoke  ii^i  the  wheel  for  our  folks — a  stitch  in  time  saves 
nine.  So,  says  I,  you  needn't  flatter  yourselves,  doctor; 
you  can't  be  a  distinct  nation ;  it  ain't  possible,  in  the  natur* 
o'  things.  You  may  jine  us,  if  you  like,  and  there  would  be 
some  sense  in  that  move — that's  a  fact ;  but  you  never  can 
stand  alone  here — no  more  than  a  lame  man  can  without 
crutches,  or  a  child  of  six  days  old.  No,  not  if  all  the  colo- 
nies were  to  unite,  you  couldn't  do  it.  Why,  says  I,  gist  see 
here,  doctor ;  you  couldn't  show  your  noses  on  the  fishin' 
ground  for  one  minit — you  can  hardly  do  it  now,  even  tho' 
the  British  have  you  under  their  wing.  Our  folks  would  drive 
you  off  the  banks,  seize  your  fish,  tear  your  nets,  and  lick 
you  like  a  sack — and  then  go  home  and  swear  you  attacked 
them  first,  and  our  government  would  seize  the  fisheries  as  an 
indemnification.  How  could  you  support  an  army  and  a 
navy,  and  a  diplomacy,  and  make  fortifications.     Why  you 


.t,;^.  >'C;- j-. 


»^7iiit"JiiiiiiSiJTlVgi<Spiy^ 


r' 


182 


THE  CLOCKMAKBR. 


couldn't  build  and  support  one  frigate,  nor  maintain  one  regi* 
ment,  nor  garrison  Quebec  itself,  let  alone  the  out-posts,  (hit 
folks  would  navigate  the  St.  Lawrence  in  spite  of  your  teeth, 
and  the  St.  John  River  too,  and  how  could  you  help  your- 
selves?  They'd  smuggle  you  out  of  your  eye-teeth,  and 
swear  you  never  had  any.  Our  fur  traders  would  attack  your 
fur  traders,  and  drive  'em  all  in.  Our  people  would  o^nter 
here,  and  settle — then  kick  up  a  row,  call  for  American  volun- 
teers, declare  themselves  independent,  and  ask  admission  into 
the  Union ;  and  afore  you  know'd  where  you  were,  you'd  find 
yourselves  one  of  our  states.  Gist  look  at  what  is  goin'  on 
to  Texas,  and  what  has  gone  on  to  Florida,  and  then  see  what 
will  go  on  here.  We  shall  own  clean  away  up  to  the  North 
and  South  Pole,  afore  we're  done.  •■  ^t*<t>>s:j 

Says  the  doctor,  in  French,  to  the  other  chaps,  that  would 
be  worse  than  bein'  a  colony  to  the  English.  Them  Yankee 
villains  would  break  up  our  laws,  language,  and  customs ;  that 
cat  wouldn't, jump  at  all,  would  it?  Jamaisi  Jamais  f  says 
the  company.  We  must  have  aid  from  old  France ;  we  must 
be  the  grand  nation,  and  the  great  empire,  ourselves — and  he 
stop't,  went  to  the  door,  unbolted  it,  looked  round  the  shop, 
and  then  turned  the  bolt  ag'in.  Would  your  folks,  says  he, 
help  us,  if  we  was  to  revolt,  Mr.  Slick.  Certainly,  said  I ; 
they'd  help  you  all  they  could,  and  not  go  to  war  with  the 
British.  They'd  leave  all  the  armories  on  the  line  unguarded, 
so  you  could  run  over  and  pretend  to  rob  'em,  and  leave  all 
the  cannon  in  the  forts  without  any  body  to  see  arter  them,  so 
you  might  have  them  if  you  wanted  them.  Lots  o'  chaps 
would  volunteer  in  your  ranks,  and  our  citizens  would  sub- 
scril)e  handsum'.  They'd  set  up  a  claim  pretty  fierce,  at  the 
same  time,  about  the  New  Brunswick  boundary  line,  so  as  to 
make  a  devarsion  in  your  favour  in  that  quarter.  We  can't 
go  to  war  gist  now ;  it  would  rain  us,  stock  and  fluke.  We 
should  lose  our  trade  and  shippin',  and  our  niggers  and  Ind- 
gians  ar^  ugly  customers,  and  would  take  a  whole  army  to 
watch  them  in  case  of  a  war.  We'd  do  all  we  could  to  help 
you  as  a  people,  but  not  as  a.  government.  We'd  furnish  you 
with  arms,  ammunition,  provisions,  money,  and  volunteers. 
We'd  let  you  into  our  country,  but  not  the  British.  We'd 
help  you  to  arrange  your  plans  and  to  (derange  them.  But 
we'd  have  to  respect  our  treaties,  for  we  are  a  high-minded, 
right-minded,  sound-minded,  and  religious  people.     We  scru- 


CAlfADIAN   POLITICS. 


183 


pulously  fulfil  our  engagements.  What  we  i<\.dertake  we 
perform — ther'a  no  mistake  in  us — ^you  always  know  where 
to  find  us.  We  are  under  great  obligations  to  the  British — 
they  saved  us  from  the  expense  and  miseries  of  a  war  with 
France — they  have  built  us  up  with  their  capital  and  their 
credit,  and  are  our  best  customers.  We  could  not,  consist- 
ently with  our  treaties  or  our  conscience,  send  an  army  or  a 
navy  to  help  you ;  but  we  will  hire  you  or  lend  you  our 
steam-boats,  and  other  crafl ;  send  you  men  to  make  an  army, 
and  the  stu^  to  feed,  clothe,  arm,  and  pay  them.  In  short, 
the  nations  of  the  airth  will  look  on  with  admiration  at  the 
justice  and  integrity  of  our  doings.  We  shall  respect  the 
treaty  with  the  British  on  one  side,  and  prove  ourselves  a 
kind,  a  liberal,  and  most  obliging  neighbour  to  you  on  the 
other.  Government  will  issue  proclamations  against  interfe- 
rence. The  press  of  the  country  will  encourage  it.  The 
nation  will  be  neutral,  but  every  soul  in  it  will  aid  you.  Yes, 
we  are  as  straight  as  a  shingle  in  our  dealings,  and  do  things 
aix)V3  bonrJ  handsum'.  We  do  love  a  fair  deal  above  all 
things — that's  a  fact.  BoUf  bon  /  says  they.  Lea  aristocrata 
d  la  lanteme — and  they  broke  out  a  singin',  d  la  lanteme. 

It  was  now  twelve  o'clock  at  night  when  we  quit,  and  gist 
as  we  got  into  the  street,  I  heerd  the  word  Doric,  Doric, — and 
says  I,  what  on  airth  is  that  ?  what  sort  o'  critter  is  a  Doric  ? 
A  Doric  is  a  loyalist,  says  they, — a  diable  huU^'—aacrafutre 
— kill  him, — and  they  arter  him,  full  split  like  the  wind, 
caught  him,  knocked  him  down,  and  most  finished  him — they 
e'en  a'most  beat  him  to  a  jelly,  and  lefl  him  for  dead.  That  s 
the  way,  says  they,  we'll  sarve  every  Englishman  in  Canada 
— extarminate  'em,  damn  'em.  Time  for  me  to  be  ofl^,  says 
I,  a'most,  I'm  a  thinkin' ;  it's  considerable  well  on  towards 
mornin'.  Good  night,  M^unt  Sheer.  Bon  swore!  Bonaworel 
says  they,  singin' — 

"Oh !  ja  ira,  ja  ira,  ja  ira, 
Lea  aristocrats,  H  la  lanterne.** 

And  the  last  I  heerd  of  them,  at  the  end  of  the  street,  was  an 
everlastin'  almighty  shout.  Five  P»\pinor — five  Papinor  ! 

Yes,  I  pity  them  poor  Canadians,  said  the  Clockmaker. 

They  are  a  loyal,  contented,  happy  people,  if  them  sarpents 

of  doctors  and  la  wye.  s  would  leave  'em  alone,  and  let  'em  be, 

and  not  pyson  their  minds  with  ail  sorts  of  lies  and  iocrums 

12 


■■I. 


mmm 


184 


THE    CLOCKMAKER. 


>, 


about  their  government.  They  will  spunk  'em  to  rebellion  at 
last,  and  when  it  does  come  to  the  scratch  they  will  desart 
'em  as  sure  as  eggs  is  eggs,  and  leave  'em  to  be  shot  down 
by  the  sodgers ;  they  ain't  able  of  themselves  to  do  nothin', 
them  Canadians ;  they  ain't  got  the  means,  nor  the  energy, 
nor  the  knowledge  for  it ;  they  ain't  like  the  descendants  of 
the  Pilgrims' — that's  a  fact.  The  worst  of  it  is,  too,  the 
punishment  won't  fall  on  the  right  heads  neither,  for  them 
critters  will  cut  and  run  to  a  sartainty ; — I  know  it,  I'm  e'en 
a'most  sure  of  it, — if  they'd  ahad  the  true  blue  in  'em,  they 
wouldn't  have  half  murdered  and  maimed  that  poor  defence- 
less Doric,  as  they  did.  None  but  cowards  do  'em  are  things; 
— a  brave  man  fights, — a  coward  sticks  a  howie  knife  into 
your  ribs ;  but  p'rhaps  it  will  all  turn  out  for  the  best  in  the 
eend,  said  he ;  for  if  there  is  a  blow  up,  Papinor  will  off  to  the 
States  full  chisel  with  the  other  leaders, — the  first  shot,  and 
them  that  they  catch  and  hang  can  never  show  their  faces  in 
Canada  ag'in.  It  will  clear  the  country  of  them,  as  they  clear 
a  house  of  rats, — frighten  'em  out  of  their  seven  senses  by 
firin'  off  a  gun. 

A  thuinLrstormj  '«^u»re,  said  the  Clockmdker,  moat  always 
cools  the  air^  clears  the  sky^  lays  the  dust,  and  makes  all  look 
about  right  agHn. 

Every  thing  will  depend  on  how  the  English  work  it  arter- 
wards ;  if  they  blunder  ag'in,  they'll  never  be  able  to  set  it  to 
rights.  What  course  ought  they  to  adopt  ?  said  I,  for  the  sub- 
ject is  one  in  which  I  feel  great  interest.     I'll  tell  you,  said 

he.     First,  they  should ,  and  he  suddenly  checked  him- 

««lf,  as  if  doubtful  of  the  propriety  of  answering  the  question ; 
-—and  then  smiling,  as  if  he  had  discovered  a  mode  of  escaping 
the  difficulty,  he  coniinued — They  should  make  you  plinipo, 
and  appoint  me  your  secretary.  „ 


.'■«■ 


t^'*^. 


i>l^^-"' 


\t.-^-', 


A  CURE   FOR   SMVOOL:  NO. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 


185 


V 


i.  tf-^t; 


A  CURE  FOR  SMUGGUNGf. 


1>!». 


Wherever  tiatur  does  leasts  man  does  mottf  said  the  Clock- 
maker.  Gist  see  the  difference  atween  these  folks  here  to 
Liverpool  and  them  up  the  bay  of  Fundy.  There  natur'  has 
given  them  the  finest  country  in  the  world, — she  has  taken 
away  all  the  soil  from  this  place,  and  chucked  it  out  there, 
and  left  uothin*  but  rocks  and  stones  here.  There  they  gist 
vegetate,  and  here  they  go.ahead  like  anything.  I  was  credi- 
bly informed,  when  Liverpool  was  first  settled,  folks  had  to 
carry  little  light  ladders  on  their  shoulders  to  climb  over  the 
rocks,  and  now  they Ve  got  better  streets,  better  houses,  better 
gardens,  and  a  better  town  than  any  of  the  bay  men.  They 
carry  on  a  considerable  of  a  fishery  here,  and  do  a  great 
stroke  in  the  timber>business. 

I  shall  never  forget  a  talk  I  had  with  Ichabod  Gates  here, 
and  a  frolic  him  and  me  hau  with  a  tide-waiter.  Ichabod  had 
a  large  store  o'  goods,  and  I  was  in  there  one  evenin'  adrinkin' 
tea  along  with  ^lim,  and  we  got  atalkin'  about  smugglin'. 
Says  he,  Mr.  Slick,  your  people  ruin  the  trade  here,  they  do 
smuggle  so ;  I  don't  know  as  I  ever  shall  be  able  to  get  rid 
of  my  stock  of  goods,  and  it  cost  me  a  considerable  of  a  sum 
too.  What  a  pity  it  is  them  navy  people,  insteai  of  carryin* 
freights  of  money  from  the  West  Indgies,  warn't  employed 
more  a  protectin'  of  our  fisheries  and  our  trade.  Why  don't 
you  smuggJ  i  then  too,  says  I,  and  meet  'em  in  their  own  way? 
— tit  for  tat — diamond  cut  diamond— smuggle  yourselves  and 
seize  them; — free  trade  and  sailors'  rights  is  our  maxim. 
Why,  says  he,  I  ain't  gist  altogether  certified  that  it's  right ; 
it  goes  agin'  my  conscience  to  do  the  like  o'  that  are,  and  I 
must  say  I  like  a  fair  deal.  In  a  gineral  way  a'most  I'vo 
observed  what's  got  over  the  devil's  back  is  commonly  lost 
under  his  belly,  ft  don't  seem  to  wear  well.  Well,  that's 
onconvenient,  too,  to  be  so  thin  skinned,  said  I ;  for  conscience 
most  commonly  has  a  hide  as  thick  as  the  soul  of  one's  foot ; 
you  may  cover  it  with  leather  to  make  it  look  decent-like,  but 
it  will  bear  a  considerable  hard  scrubbin'  without  any  thing 


r\ 


136 


THB   CLOCKMAKER. 


/ 


over  it.  Now,  says  I,  I  will  put  you  on  a  track  that  will 
sarve  you  without  bringin^  corns  on  your  conscience  either. 
Do  you  gist  pretend  to  smuggle  and  make  believe  as  if  you 
were  agoin*  the  whole  hog  in  it.  It*s  safer,  and  full  out  as 
profitable  as  the  rael  thing,  and  besides  there's  no  sort  o*  risk 
in  it  in  the  world.  When  folks  hear  a  thing  is  smuggled  they 
always  think  it's  cheap,  and  never  look  into  the  price ;  they 
bite  directly — it's  a  grand  beut  that.  Now  always  onload 
your  vessels  at  night,  and  let  folks  hear  a  cart  agoin'  into 
your  place  atween  two  and  three  o'clock  in  the  mornin' ;  fix 
one  o  the  axles  so  it  will  squeak  like  a  pig,  and  do  you  look 
suspicious,  mysterious,  and  oneasy.  Says  you,  (when  a  chap 
says,  I  guess  you  were  up  late  last  night,)  ax  me  no  questions 
and  I'll  tell  you  no  lies.  There  are  so  many  pimpin'  eyes 
about  now,  a  body  has  to  be  cautious  if  he  don't  want  to  get 
into  the  centre  of  a  hobble.  If  I'm  up  late  I  guess  it's  nobody's 
business  but  my  own  I'm  about  any  how ;  but  I  hope  you 
won't  make  no  remarks  about  what  you  seed  or  heerd. 

Well,  when  a  feller  axes  arter  a  thing,  do  you  gist  stand 
and  look  at  him  for  a  space  without  sayin'  a  word,  enquirin' 
like  with  a  dubersum'  look,  as  if  you  didn't  know  as  you  could 
trust  him  or  no ;  ihen  gist  wink,  put  your  fmger  on  your  nose, 
and  say  mum  is  the  word.  Take  a  candle  and  light  it,  and 
say,  foller  me  now,  and  take  him  into  the  cellar.  Now,  says 
you,  friend,  don't  betray  me,  I  beseech  you,  for  your  life ; 
don't  let  on  to  any  one  about  this  place ; — people  will  never 
think  o'  suspectin  me  if  you  only  keep  dark  about  it.  I'll  let 
you  see  some  things,  says  you,  that  will  please  you,  I  know ; 
but  don't  blow  mc — that's  a  good  soul.  This  article,  says 
you,  atakin'  up  one  that  cost  three  pounds,  I  can  afford  to  let 
you  have  as  low  as  five  pounds,  and  that  one  as  cheap  as  six 
pounds,  on  one  condition, — but  mind  you,  it's  on  them  terms 
only, — and  that  is  that  you  don't  tell  any  one,  not  even  your 
wife,  where  you  got  it ;  but  you  must  promise  me  on  the  word 
and  honour  of  a  man.  The  critter  will  fall  right  into  the  trap, 
and  swear  by  all  that's  good  he'll  never  breathe  it  ♦o  a  livin' 
soul,  and  then  go  right  off  and  tell  his  wife,  and  you  might  as 
well  pour  a  thing  into  a  filterin'  stone  as  into  a  woman's  ear; 
it  will  run  right  thro',  and  she'll  go  a  braggin'  to  her  neigh- 
bours of  the  bargain  they  got,  and  swear  them  to  secrecy,  and 
they'll  tell  the  whole  country  in  the  same  way,  as  a  secret,  of 
the  cheap  things  Ichabod  Gates  has.     Well,  the  excise  folks 


/-■'' 


?*? 


A   CURE    FOR    SHUOOLINO. 


187 


ck  that  will 

ence  either. 

B  as  if  you 

full  out  aa 

sort  o*  risk 

uggled  they 

price ;  they 

ays  onload 

agoin'  into 

nornin' ;  fix 

lo  you  look 

trhen  a  chap 

no  questions 

impin'  eyes 

want  to  get 

it's  nobody's 

I  hope  you 

leerd. 

1  gist  stand 

d,  enquirin' 

as  you  could 

n  your  nose, 

light  it,  and 

Now,  says 

your  life; 

will  never 

It  it.   I'll  let 

ou,  I  know ; 

irticle,  says 

afford  to  let 

;heap  as  six 

them  terms 

even  your 

on  the  word 

iitc  the  trap, 

*i  a  livin' 

ou  might  as 

Oman's  ear; 

her  neigh- 

ecrecy,  and 

a  secret,  of 

fcxcise  folks 


will  soon  hear  o'  this,  and  come  and  sarch  your  house  from 
top  to  bottom,  and  the  sarch  will  make  your  fortin',  for,  as 
they  can't  find  nothin',  you  will  get  the  credit  of  doin'  the 
officers  in  great  style. 

Well,  well,  said  Ichabod,  if  you  Yankees  don't  beat  all  na- 
tur'.  I  don't  believe  in  my  soul  there's  a  critter  in  all  Nova 
Scotia  would  athought  o'  such  a  scheme  as  that,  but  it's  a 
grand  joke,  and  comports  with  conscience,  for  it  parallels 
pretty  close  with  the  truth :  I'll  try  it.  Try  it,  says  I,  to  be 
sure ;  let's  go  right  off  this  blessed  night,  and  hide  away  a 
parcel  of  your  goods  in  the  cellar, — put  some  in  the  garret 
and  some  in  the  gig-house.  Begin  and  sell  to«morrow,  and  all 
the  time  I'm  to  Liverpool  I'll  keep  arunnin'  in  and  out  o'  your 
house ;  sometimes  I'll  gist  come  to  tlie  corner  of  the  fence, 
put  my  head  over  and  draw  it  back  ag'in  as  if  I  didn't  want 
folks  to  see  me,  and  sometimes  I'll  make  as  if  I  was  agoin' 
out,  and  if  I  see  any  one  acomin',  I'll  spring  back  and  hide 
behind  the  door ;  it  will  set  the  whole  town  on  the  look*out,— 
and  they'll  say  it's  me  that's  asmugglin'  either  on  my  own 
hook  or  yourn.  In  three  days  he  had  a  great  run  o'  custom, 
particularly  arter  night-fall.  It  was  fbn  alive  to  see  how  the 
critters  were  bammed  by  that  hoax. 

On  the  fif^h  day  the  tide-waiter  came.     Mr.  Slick,  says  he, 

I've  got  information  th Glad  to  hear  it,  says  I ;  an 

officer  without  information  would  be  a  poor  tool — that's  a 
fact.  Well,  it  brought  him  up  all  standin'.  Says  he,  do  you 
knov'  who  you  are  atalkin'  to  ?  Yes,  says  I,  guess  I  do ;  I'm 
talkin'  to  a  man^of  information ;  and  that  bein'  the  case,  I'll 
be  so  bold  as  to  ax  you  one  question, — have  you  any  thing  to 
say  to  me?  for  I'm  in  a  considerable  of  a  hurry.  Yes,  said 
he,  I  have.  I'm  informed  you  have  smuggled  goods  in  the 
house.  Well,  then,  says  I,  you  can  say  what  many  galls 
can't  boast  on  at  any  rate.  What's  that  ?  says  he.  Why, 
says  I,  that  you  are  mi««-informeu.  -^ 

Mr.  Gates,  said  he,  give  me  a  candle,  I  must  go  to  the  cellar. 
Sartainly,  sir,  said  Ichabod,  you  may  sarch  where  you  please : 
I've  never  smuggled  yet,  and  I  am  not  agoin'  now  to  commence 
at  my  time  of  life.  As  soon  as  he  got  the  candle,  and  was 
agoin'  down  to  the  cellar  with  Gates,  I  called  out  to  Ichabod. 
Here,  says  I,  Ich,  run  quick,  for  your  life — now's  your  time ; 
and  off  we  ran  up  stairs  as  fkst  as  we  could  leg  it,  and  locked 
the  door ;  the  sarcher  heerin'  that,  up  too  and  arter  us  hot 
12* 


<"'  "     "■« 


v^ 


/"It 


'  '11 


^k 


138 


THE   CLOCKMAKBR. 


foot,  and  bust  open  the  door.  As  soon  as  we  heerd  him  adoin* 
of  that,  we  out  o*  the  other  door  and  locked  that  also,  and 
down  the  back  stairs  to  where  we  started  from.  It  was  some 
time  afore  he  broke  in  the  second  door,  and  then  he  follered 
us  down,  lookin'  like  a  proper  fool.  Til  pay  you  up  for  this, 
said  he  to  mc.  I  hope  so,  said  I,  and  Ich^bod  too.  A  pretty 
time  o*  day  this,  when  folks  can  tare  and  race  over  a  decent 
man's  house,  and  smash  all  afore  him  this  way  for  nothin', 
ain't  it?  Them  doors  you  broke  all  to  pieces  will  come  to 
somelhin',  you  may  depend ;— a  joke  is  a  joke,  but  thats  no 
joke.  Arter  that  he  took  his  time,  sarched  the  cellar,  upper 
rooms,  lower  rooms,  and  garret,  and  found  nothin'  to  seize ; 
he  was  all  cut  up,  and  amazin'  vexed,  and  put  out.  Says  I, 
friend,  if  you  want  to  catch  a  weasel  you  must  catch  him 
asleep ;  now  if  you  want  to  catch  me  asmugglin',  rise  con- 
siderable airly  in  the  mornin',  will  you?  Ihis  story  made 
Ichabod's  fortin  a'most :  he  had  smuggled  goods  to  sell  for 
three  years,  and  yet  no  one  could  find  him  in  the  act,  or  tell 
where  onder  the  sun  he  hid  'em  away  to.  At  last  the  secret 
leaked  out,  and  it  fairly  broke  up  smugglin'on  the  whole 
shore.  That  story  has  done  more  nor  twenty  officers — that's 
a  fact. 

There's  nothin*  a'most,  said  the  Clockmaker,  I  like  so  much 
as  to  see  folks  cheat  themselves.  I  don't  know  as  I  ever 
cheated  a  man  myself  in  my  life :  I  like  to  do  things  above 
board  handsum',  and  go  strait  ahead ;  but  if  a  chap  seems 
bent  on  cheatin'  himself,  I  like  to  be  neighbourly,  and  help 
him  to  do  it.  I  mind  once,  when  I  was  to  the  eastward  of 
Halifax  atradin',  I  bought  a  young  horse  to  use  while  I  gave 
Old  Clay  a  run  to  grass.  I  do  that  most  every  fall,  and  it 
does  the  poor  old  critter  a  deal  of  good.  He  kinder  seems  to 
take  a  new  lease  every  time,  it  sets  him  up  so.  Well,  he  was 
a  most  especial  horse,  but  he  had  an  infarnal  temper,  and  it 
required  all  my  knowledge  of  horse  flesh  to  manage  him. 
He'd  kick,  sulk,  back,  bite,  refuse  to  draw,  or  run  away,  gist 
as  he  took  the  notion.  I  mastered  him,  but  it  was  gist  as 
much  as  a  bargain  too ;  and  I  don't  believe,  tho'  I  say  it  my- 
self, there  is  ''ny  other  gentleman  in  the  province  could  have 
managed  him  but  me.  Well,  there  was  a  parson  livin'  down 
there  that  took  a  great  fancy  to  that  horse.  Whenever  he 
seed  me  adrivin'  by  he  always  stopt  to  look  at  his  action  and 
gait,  and  admired  him  amazin'Iy.     Thinks  i  to  myself,  that 


A   CURE   FOR   SMUQOLINO. 


189 


man  is  inokilated — it  Ml  break  out  soon — he  is  detarmined  to 
cheat  himself,  and  if  he  is,  there  is  no  help  for  it,  as  I  see,  but 
to.let  him.  One  day  I  was  adrivin*  out  at  a  most  a  duce  of  a 
size,  and  he  stopped  me.  Hallo !  says  he,  Mr.  Slick,  where 
are  you  agoin'  in  such  a  desperate  hurry?  I  want  to  speak 
a  word  to  you.  So  I  pulls  up  short.  Mornin*,  says  I,  parson, 
how  do  you  do  to-day  ?  That's  a  very  clever  horse  of  yourn, 
says  he.  Middlin',  says  I ;  he  does  my  work,  but  he's  nothin' 
to  brng  on ;  he  ain't  gist  equal  to  Old  Clay,  and  I  doubt  if 
there's  are  a  blue-nose  horse  that  is  either.  Fine  action  that 
horse,  said  he>  Well,  says  I,  people  do  say  he  has  consider- 
able fine  action,  but  that's  better  for  himself  than  me,  for  it 
makes  him  travel  easier. 

How  many  miles  will  he  trot  in  the  hour  ?  said  he.  Well, 
says  I,  if  he  has  a  mind  to  and  is  well  managed,  he  can  do 
fifleen  handsum'.  Will  you  sell  him  ?  said  he.  Well,  said 
I,  parson,  I  would  sell  him,  but  not  to  you ;  the  truth  is,  said 
I,  smilin',  I  have  a  regard  for  ministers ;  the  best  friend  I  ever 
had  was  one,  the  reverend  Joshua  Hopewell,  of  Slickyille,  and 
I  wouldn't  sell  a  horse  to  one  I  didn't  think  would  suit  him. 
Oh !  said  he,  the  horse  would  suit  me  exactly ;  I  like  him 
amazin'ly :  what's  your  price  ?  Fifty  pounds  to  any  body 
else,  said  I,  but  fifty-five  to  you,  parson,  for  I  don't  want  you 
to  have  him  at  no  price.  If  h6  didn't  suit  you,  people  would 
say  I  cheated  you,  and  cheatin'  a  parson  is,  in  my  mind, 
pretty  much  of  a  piece  with  robbin'  of  a  church.  Folks 
would  think  considerable  hard  of  me  sellin'  you  a  horse  that 
wam't  quite  the  thing,  and  I  shouldn't  blame  them  one  morsel 
if  they  did.  Why,  what's  the  matter  of  him?  said  he. 
Well,  says  I,  minister,  says  I,  alarfin'  right  out,  every  thing  is 
the  matter  of  him.  Oh !  said  he,  that's  all  nonsense ;  I've 
seen  the  horse  in  your  hands  often,  and  desire  no  better.  Well, 
says  I,  he  will  run  away  with  you  if  he  gets  a  chance,  to  a 
sartainty.  I  will  drive  him  with  a  curb,  sajd  he.  He  will  ^ 
kick,  says  I.  I'll  put  a  back  strap  on  him,  said  he.  He  will 
go  backwards  faster  than  forward,  said  I.  I  will  give  him 
the  whip  and  teach  him  better,  says  he.  Well,  says  I,  larfin* 
like  any  thing,  he  wont  go  at  all  sometimes.  I'll  take  my 
chance  of  that,  said  he ;  but  you  must  take  off  that  five 
pounds.  Well,  says  I,  parson,  I  don't  want  to  sell  you  the 
horse — that's  a  fact ;  but  if  you  must  have  him  I  suppose  you 
must,  and  I  will  subtract  the  five  pounds  on  ope  condition,  and 


5>-i:  >  ^  -  'J-^iA^a^Li'c^ 


140 


THE    CLOCKMAKER. 


that  is,  if  you  donH  like  the  beast,  you  tell  folks  that  you 
would  have  hirn,  tho*  I  tried  to  set  him  out  as  bad  as  I  could, 
and  said  every  thing  of  him  I  could  lay  my  tongue  to.  Well, 
says  he,  the  horse  is  mine,  and  if  he  don't  suit  me,  I  acquit 
you  of  all  blame. 

Well,  he  took  the  horse,  and  cracked  and  boasted  most  pro- 
digiously of  him ;  he  said  he  wouldn't  like  to  take  a  hundred 
pounds  for  him ;  that  he  liked  to  buy  a  horse  of  a  Yankee, 
for  they  were  such  capital  judges  of  horse  flesh  they  hardly 
ever  a'most  had  a  bad  one,  and  that  he  knew  he  was  agoin'  to 
get  a  first  chop  one,  the  moment  he  found  I  didn't  want  to  sell 
him,  and  that  he  never  saw  a  man  so  loath  to  part  with  a 
beast.  Oh  dear  !  how  I  larfed  in  my  sleeve  when  I  heerd  tell 
of  ihe  goney  talkin'  such  nonsense  :  thinks  I,  he'll  live  to  lam 
yet  some  things  that  ain't  writ  down  in  Latin  afore  he  dies,  or 
I'm  mistakened — that's  all.  In  the  course  of  a  few  days  the 
hor  je  began  to  find  he'd  changed  hands,  and  he  thought  he'd 
try  what  sort  o'^stufThis  new  master  was  made  on;  so  he  gist 
took  the  hit  in  his  mouth  one  fine  mornin'  and  ran  off  with 
him,  and  kicked  his  gig  all  to  flinders,  and  nearly  broke  the 
parson's  neck ;  and  findin'  that  answer,  he  took  to  all  his 
old  tricks  ag'in,  and  got  worse  than  ever.  He  couldn't  do 
nothin'  with  him, — even  the  helps  were  frightened  out  of  their 
lives  to  go  into  the  stable  to  him.  ■-,      )  ?  ?:' 

So  he  come  to  me  one  day  lookin'  quite  streaked,  and  says 
he,  Mr.  Slick,  that  horse  I  bought  of  you  is  a  perfect  divil ;  I 
never  saw  such  a  critter  in  my  life ;  I  can  neither  ride  him 
nor  drive  him.  He  gist  does  what  he  pleases  with  us,  and  we 
can't  help  ourselves  no  how.  He  actilly  beats  all  the  onruly 
animals  I  ever  jieed  in  my  life.  Well,  says  I,  I  told  you  so, 
minister — I  didn't  want  to  sell  him  to  you  at  all;  but  you 
would  have  him.  I  know  you  did,  said  he ;  but  you  larfed  so 
all  the  time  I  thought  you  was  in  jeest.  I  thought  you  didn't 
care  to  sell  him,  and  gist  said  so  to  put  me  off,  jokin'  like :  I 
had  no  idee  you  were  in  airnest :  I  wouldn't  give  ten  pounds 
for  him.  Nor  I  neither,  said  I ;  I  wouldn't  take  him  as  a  gift, 
and  be  bound  to  keep  him.  How  could  you  then,  said  he, 
have  the  conscience  to  ax  me  fifty  pounds  for  him,  and  pocket 
it  so  coolly  ?  To  prevent  you  from  buyin'  him,  parson,  said 
I,  that  was  my  reason.  I  did  all  I  could  for  you ;  I  axed 
you  five  times  as  much  as  he  was  worth,  and  said  all  I  could 
think  on  to  run  him  down  too ;  but  you  took  yourself  in. 


■It 


♦  i 


* 


■»^'^-<^^^t^ 


A  CURE   FOR   SMUOOLINO. 


141 


There's  two  ways  of  teliin'  a  thing,  said  he,  Mr.  Slick, — in 
airnest  and  in  jeest.  You  told  it  as  if  you  were  iu  jeest,  and 
1  took  it  so ;  you  may  call  it  what  you  like,  but  I  call  it  a  do« 
ception  still.  Parson,  says  I,  how  many  ways  you  may  have 
of  tellin'  a  thing  I  don't  know ;  but  I  have  only  one,  and 
that's  the  tiue  way :  I  told  you  the  truth,  but  you  didn't  choose 
to  believe  it  Now,  says  I,  I  feel  kinder  sorry  for  you  too ; 
but  I'll  tell  you  how  to  get  out  o'  the  scrape.  I  can't  take 
him  back,  or  folks  would  say  it  was  me  and  not  you  that 
cheated  yourself.  Do  you  ship  him.  You  can't  sell  him  here 
without  doin'  the  fair  thing,  as  I  did,  tellin'  all  his  faults ;  and 
if  you  do  no  soul  would  take  him  as  a  present,  for  people  will 
believe  you,  tho'  it  seems  they  won't  always  believe  a  Clock- 
maker.  Gist  send  him  off  to  the  West  Indgies,  and  sell  him 
at  auction  there  for  what  he  will  fetch.  He'll  bring  a  good 
price,  and  if  he  gets  into  a  rael  right  down  genutoine  horse> 
man's  hanus,  there's  no  better  horse.  He  said  nothin',  but 
shook  his  head,  as  if  that  cat  wouldn't  jump. 

Now,  says  I,  there's  another  bit  of  advice  I'll  give  you  free 
gratis  for  nothin', — never  buy  a  horse  on  the  dealer^s  judg- 
ment^  or  he  will  cheat  you  if  he  can  ;  never  buy  him  on  your 
own,  or  you  *vill  cheat  yourself  as  sure  as  you  are  bom.  In 
that  case,  said  he,  larfin',  a  man  will  be  sure  to  be  cheated 
either  way :  how  is  he  to  guard  ag'in  bein'  taken  in,  then  ? 
Well,  says  I,  he  stands  a  fair  chance  any  way  of  havin'  the 
leake  put  into  him — that's  sartaih,  for  next  to  woman  kind 
there  is  nothin'  so  deceitful  as  horse>flesh  that  ever  I  seed  yet. 
Both  on  'em  are  apt  to  be  spoiled  in  the  breakin' ;  both  on  'em 
puzzle  the  best  judges  sometimes  to  tell  their  age  when  well 
vamped  up,  and  it  takes  some  time  afore  you  find  out  all  their 
tricks.  Pedigree  must  be  attended  to  in  both  cases,  particu« 
larly  on  the  mother's  side,  and  both  require  good  trainin',  a 
steady  hand,  and  careful  usage.  Yes ;  both  branches  require 
great  experience,  and  the  most  knowin'  ones  do  get  bit  some- 
times most  beautifully.  Well,  says  he,  as  touchin'  horses, 
how  is  a  man  to  avoid  being  deceived  ?  Well,  says  I,  I'll  tell 
you — never  buy  a  horse  of  a  total  stranger  on  no  account, — 

never  buy  a  horse  of  a  gentleman,  for Why,  said  he, 

he's  the  very  man  I  should  like  to  buy  of,  above  all  others* 
Well,  then,  says  I.  he's  not  the  man  for  my  money  anyhow ; 
you  think  you  are  safe  with  him,  and  don't  inquire  enough, 
and  take  too  much  for  granted :  you  are  apt  to  cheat  yourself 


142 


THE   GLOGKMAKER. 


,41 


;i;  .... 


i'  f 


in  that  case.  Never  buy  a  crack  horse ;  he^s  done  too  much. 
Never  buy  a  colt ;  he's  done  too  little ;  you  can't  tell  how 
heMl  turn  out.  In  short,  says  I,  it's  a  considerable  of  a' long 
story  to  go  all  through  with  it ;  it  would  take  me  less  time  to 
teach  you  how  to  make  a  clock,  I  calculate.  If  you  buy  from 
a  man  who  ain't  a  dealer,  he  actilly  don't  know  whether  his 
horse  is  a  good  one  or  not ;  you  must  get  advice  from  a  friend 
who  does  know.  If  you  buy  from  a  dealer,  he's  too  much  for 
you  or  your  friend  either.  If  he  has  no  honour,  don't  trade 
with  him.  If  he  has,  put  yourself  wholly  and  entirely  on  it, 
and  he'll  not  deceive  you,  there's  no  mistake — he'll  do  the 
thing  genteel.  If  you'd  a'  axed  me  candidly  now  about  that 
are  horse,  says  I. — At  that  he  looked  up  at  me  quite  hard  for 
a  space,  without  say  in'  a  word,  but  pressed  his  lips  together 
quite  miffy  like,  as  if  he  was  a  strivin'  for  to  keep  old  Adam 
down,  and  turned  short  off  and  walked  away.  I  felt  kinder 
pity  for  him  too  't^  but  if  a  man  will  cheat  himself  in  spite  of 
all  you  can  do,  why  there  is  no  help  for  it  as  I  see,  but  to  let 
him.     Do  you,  squire?  >         .,  h  y*  ' ' }    ''•^■^■■■■- 


■Jf.*  ^• 


Hi 


.!(' 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


TAKING  OFF  THE  FACTORY  LADIES. 


•iSt 


•V' 


■fk.-if!.'-- 


>■ 


There  are  few  countries  in  the  world,  squire,  said  the 
Clockmaker,  got  such  fine  water  powers  as  these  provinces ; 
but  the  folks  don't  make  no  use  of  'em,  tho'  the  materials  for 
factories  are  spread  about  in  abundance  everywhere.  Perhaps 
the  whole  world  might  be  stumped  to  produce  such  a  factory 
stand  as  Niagara  Falls ;  what  a  nation  sight  of  machinery  that 
would  carry,  wouldn't  it? — supply  all  Birmingham  a'most. 

The  first  time  I  returned  from  there,  minister  said,  Sam, 
said  he,  have  you  seen  the  fells  of  Niagara?  Yes,  sir,  said 
I,  I  guess  I  have.  Well,  said  he,  ain't  it  a'most  a  grand  slight 
that  ?  I  guess  it  is  a  scite,  says  I,  and  it  would  be  a  grand 
spec  to  get  up  a  joint  stock  company  for  factory  purposes,  for 
such  another  place  for  mills  ain't  to  be  found  atween  the  poles. 
Oh  dear !  said  I,  only  think  of  the  cardin'  mills,  fullin'  mills, 
cotton  mills,  grain  mills,  saw  mills,  plaster  mills,  and  gracious 
knows  what  sort  o'  mills  might  be  put  up  there,  and  never  fail 


I 


TAKiiro  orr  the  factort  ladies. 


143 


30  much, 
tell  how 
>f  a' long 
i  time  to 
buy  from 
ether  his 
n  a  friend 
much  for 
on't  trade 
•ely  on  it, 
I'll  do  the 
jbout  that    ^ 
J  hard  for 
I  together   ^ 
old  Adam  . 
bit  kinder 
n  spite  of 
,  but  to  let 

•j..'    -■*,*^:- 

'->     -.^    Ml**.*.' 

J  >!>    ' 

!,  said  the 
provinces ; 
terials  for 

Perhaps 
a  factory 
linery  that 
a'most. 
said,  Sam, 
s,  sir,  said 
rand  sight 
le  a  grand 
V  poses,  for 
« the  poles, 
llin'  mills, 
d  gracious 

never  fail 


for  water ;  any  fall  you  like,  and  any  power  you  want,  and 
yet  them  goneys  the  British  let  fill  run  away  to  waste.  It's  a 
dreadful  pity,  ainU  it  ?  Oh  Sam  1  said  he, — and  he  jumped  as 
if  he  was  bit  by  a  sarpent  right  up  an  eend, — now  donU  talk 
so  profane,  my  sakes! — dont  talk  so  sacrilegious.  How  that 
dreadful  thirst  o'  gain  has  absorbed  all  other  feelins'  in  our 
people,  when  such  an  idea  could  be  entertained  for  a  moment. 
It's  a  grand  spectacle, — it's  the  voice  of  natur'  in  the  wilder- 
ness, proclaimin'  to  the  untutored  tribes  thereof  the  power  and 
majesty  and  glory  of  God.  It  is  consecrated  by  the  visible 
impress  of  the  great  invisible  architect.  It  is  sacred  ground — 
a  temple  not  made  by  hands.  It  cannot  be  viewed  without 
fear  and  tremblin',  nor  contemplated  without  wonder  and  awe. 
It  proclaims  to  man,  as  to  Moses  of  old,  "  Draw  not  nigh 
hither,  put  off  thy  shoes  from  oflf  thy  feet,  for  the  place  where 
thou  standest  is  holy  ground."  He  who  appeared  in  a  flame 
of  fire  in  the  bush,  and  the  bush  was  not  consumed,  appears 
also  in  the  rush  of  water,  and  the  water  diminishes  not.  Talk 
not  to  me  of  mills,  factories,  and  machinery,  sir,  nor  of  intro- 
ducin'  the  money-changers  into  the  temple  of  the  Lord.  Talk 
not. — You  needn't  go,  said  I,  minister,  for  to  work  yourself 
up  that  way  ag'in  me,  I  do  assure  you,  for  I  didn't  mean  to 
say  anything  out  o'  the  way  at  all,  so  come  now.  And  now 
you  do  mention  it,  says  I,  it  does  seem  kinder  grand-like — 
that  are  great  big  lake  does  seem  like  an  everlastin'  large  milk 
pan  with  a  lip  for  pourin'  at  the  falls,  and  when  it  does  fall 
head  over  heels,  all  white  froth  and  spray  like  Phcebe's  sylla- 
bub, it  does  look  grand,  no  doubt,  and  it's  nateral  for  a  minister 
to  think  on  it  as  you  do ;  but  still  for  all  that,  for  them  that 
ain't  preachers,  I  defy  most  any  man  to  see  it  without  thinkin' 
of  a  cotton  mill. 

Well,  well,  said  he,  awavin'  of  his  hand ;  say  no  more  about 
it,  and  he  walked  into  his  study  and  shut  to  the  door.  He 
warn't  like  other  men,  minister.  He  was  full  of  crotchets  that 
way,  and  the  sight  of  the  sea,  a  great  storm,  a  starry  sky,  or 
even  a  mere  flower,  would  make  him  fly  right  off  at  the  handle 
that  way  when  you  warn't  a  thinkin'  on  it  at  all ;  and  yet  for 
all  that  he  was  the  most  cheerful  critter  I  ever  seed,  and  nothin' 
a'most  pleased  him  so  much  as  to  see  yo  mg  folks  enjoyin' 
themselves  as  merry  as  crickets.  He  us(  4  to  say  that  youth, 
innocence,  and  cheerfulness  was  what  was  meant  by  the  three 
graces.    It  was  a  curious  kink,  too,  he  took  about  them  falls, 


..*^/ 


144 


THB  CLOOKMAKER. 


;  I 


i 


warn't  it  ?  for,  arter  all,  atween  you  and  me,  it*8  nothin*  but 
a  river  taken  over  a  clifT  full  split,  instead  of  runnin*  down 
hill  the  old  way : — I  never  hear  tell  of  'em  I  don't  think  of 
that  tantrum  of  him. 

Our  factories  in  New  England  are  one  of  the  best  fruits  of 
the  last  war,  squire,  said  he ;  they  are  actilly  worth  seein*. 
I  know  I  have  reason  to  speak  well  of  'em  any  how,  for  it 
was  them  gave  me  my  first  start  in  life,  and  a  pleasant  start 
it  was  too,  as  well  as  a  profitable  one.     I  spent  upwards  of  a 

frear  there  among  the  galls,  atakin'  of  them  off  in  the  portrait 
ine,  and  in  that  time  I  cleared  three  hundred  pounds  of  your 
money  good :  it  warn't  so  bad  that,  was  it  ? 

When  I  was  down  to  Rhode  Island  larnin'  bronzin',  gildin', 
and  sketchin'  for  the  clock  business,  I  worked  at  odd  times  for 
the  Honourable  Eli  Wad,  a  foundationalist — a  painting  for 
him.  A  foundationalist,  said  I ;  what  is  i\,at  ? — is  it  a  rdigious 
sect?  No,  said  he,  it's  a  bottom  maker.  He  only  made 
bottoms,  he  dian't  make  arms  and  legs,  and  he  sold  these 
wooden  bottoms  to  the  chair-makers.  He  did  'em  by  a  sarcu- 
lar  saw  and  a  turnin'  lathe,  and  he  turned  'em  off  amazin' 
quick ;  he  made  a  fortin'  out  of  the  invention,  for  he  shipped 
'em  to  every  part  of  the  Union.  The  select  men  objected  to 
his  sign  of  bottom  maker :  they  said  it  didn't  sound  pretty, 
and  he  altered  it  to  foundationalist.  That  was  one  cause  the 
speck  turned  out  so  well,  for  every  one  that  seed  it  a'most 
stopt  to  inquire  what  it  meant,  and  it  brought  his  patent  into 
great  vogue;  many's  the  larf  folks  had  over  that  sign, 
I  tell  you. 

So,  said  he,  when  I  had  done,  Slick,  said  he,  you've  a  con< 
siderable  of  a  knack  with  the  brush,  it  would  be  a  grand 
speck  for  you  to  go  to  Lowell  and  take  ofi'  the  factory  ladies : 
you  know  what  the  women  are, — most  all  on  'em  will  want  to 
have  their  likeness  taken.  The  whole  art  of  portrait  paintin', 
says  he,  as  far  as  my  observation  goe^,  lies  in  a  free  sketch 
of  the  leadin'  featur.'  Give  it  good  measure:  do  yon  take? 
No,  says  I,  I  don't  onderstand  one  word  of  it.  Well,  says  he, 
what  I  mean  is  this;  see  what  the  leadin'  feature  is,  and 
exaggerate  that,  and  you  have  a  striking  likeness.  If  the 
nose  is  large,  gist  make  it  a  little  more  so ;  if  there  is  a  slight 
cast  o'  the  eye,  give  it  a  squint ;  a  strong  line  in  the  face, 
deepen  it ;  a  big  mouth,  enlarge  it ;  a  set  smile,  make  it 
a  smirk ;  a  high  cheek  bone,  square  it  out  well.     Reciprocate 


TAKipra  or?  the  factory  ladies. 


145 


nothin*  but 
nnin*  down 
't  think  of 

>st  fruits  of 
arth  seein'. 
how,  for  it 
sQsant  start 
»wards  of  a 
the  portrait 
ids  of  your 

tin*,  gildin', 
dd  times  for 
painting  for 
t  a  religious 
only  made 
}  sold  these 
by  a  sarcu- 
off  amazin* 
■  he  shipped 
i  objected  to 
3und  pretty, 
ne  cause  the 
ed  it  a'most 
patent  into 
that  sign, 

ou've  a  con- 
he  a  grand 
story  ladies : 
will  want  to 
rait  paintin', 
■  free  sketch 
o  you  take  1 
^ell,  says  he, 
iture  is,  and 
less.  If  the 
re  is  a  slight 

in  the  face, 
lile,  make  it 

Reciprocate 


this  by  paintin*  the  rest  o'  the  face  a  little  handsomer,  and  you 
have  it  complete :  you'll  never  fail — there's  no  mistake.  Dead 
colorin',  with  lots  of  varnish,  will  do  for  that  market,  and  six 
dollars  a  piece  for  the  pictur's  is  about  the  fair  deal  for  the 
price.  If  you  don't  succeed,  I  will  give  you  my  head  for 
a  foot-ball.  You'll  hear  'em  all  say.  Oh  I  that's  her  nose  to 
a  hair, — that's  her  eye  exactly;  you  could  tell  that  mouth 
anywhere,  that  smile  you  could  sweor  to  as  far  as  you  can 
see  it, — it's  a'most  a  beautiful  likeness.  She's  taken  off  com- 
plete— it's  as  nateral  as  life.  You  could  do  one  at  a  sittin',  or 
six  a  week,  as  easy  as  kiss  my  hand,  and  I'm  athinkin'  you'd 
find  it  answer  a  good  eend,  and  put  you  in  funds  for  a  start  in 
the  clock  line. 

But,  Sam,  says  he,  uputtin'  of  his  hand  on  my  shoulder, 
and  lookin'  me  strong  in  the  face,  mind  your  eye,  my  boy; 
mind  you  don't  get  tangled  in  the  deep  sea  gMss,  so  you  can't 
clear  hand  or  foot.  There  are  some  plaguy  pretty  galls  there, 
and  some  on  'em  have  saved  a  considerable  round  sum  too ; 
don't  let  'em  walk  into  you  now  afore  you  know  where  you 
Ix).  Young  gentlemen  are  scarce  in  New  England,  sweet- 
hearts ain't  to  be  had  for  love  nor  money,  and  a  good-lookin' 
fellow  like  you,  with  five  hundred  pair  of  pretty  little  good- 
natured  longin'  eyes  on  him,  is  in  a  fair  way  o'  gettin'  his 
flint  fixed,  1  tell  you.  Marriage  won't  do  for  you,  my  hearty, 
till  you've  seed  the  world  and  made  somethin'  handsum'.  To 
marry  for  money  is  mean,  to  marry  without  it  is  folly,  and  to 
marry  both  young  and  poor  is  downright  madness ;  so  hands 
off,  says  you ;  love  to  all,  but  none  in  partikilar.  If  you  find 
yourself  agettin'  spooney,  throw  brush,  pallet,  and  paint  over 
the  falls,  and  off  full  split ;  change  of  air  and  scene  to  cure 
love,  consumption,  or  the  blues,  must  be  taken  airly  in  the 
disease,  or  it's  no  good.  An  ounce  o'  prevention  is  worth 
a  pound  o'  cure.  Recollect,  too,  when  you  are  married,  you 
are  tied  by  tha  leg,  Sam ;  like  one  of  our  sodger  disarters, 
you  have  a  chain  adanglin'  to  yotir  foot,  with  a  plaguy  heavy 
shot  to  the  eend  of  it.  It  keeps  you  to  one  place  most  all 
the  time  for  you  can't  carry  it  with  you,  and  you  can't  leave 
it  behind  you,  and  you  can't  do  nothin'  with  it. 

If  you  think  you  can  trust  yourself,  go ;  if  not,  stay  where 

you  be.     It's  a  grand  school,  tho',  Sam ;  you'll  know  some- 

thin'  of  human  natur'  when  you  leave  Lowell,  I  estimate,  for 

they'll  lam  you  how  to  cut  your  eye-teeth  them  galls ,  you'll 

13 


A 


w 


111 

'I 


ii46 


THE  OLOCKMAKBR. 


see  how  wonderful  the  ways  of  woinan*kind  is,  for  they  do 
brat  all—- that's  sartain.  Well,  down  I  went  to  Lowell,  and 
arter  a  day  oi  tWo  spent  a  visitin'  the  factories,  and  gettin* 
introduced  to  the  ladies,  I  took  a  room  and  i30t  up  my  easel, 
and  I  had  as  much  work  as  eirer  I  c<  uHd  cleverly  turn  my 
hand  to.  i\5ost  every  gall  in  the  place  had  ber  likeness  taken ; 
some  wanted  'em  to  send  to  home,  some  to  give  to  a  sweet' 
heart  to  admire,  and  some  to  hang  up  to  admire  themselves. 
The  best  of  the  joke  was,  every  gall  had  an  excuse  for  bein* 
there.  They  all  seemed  as  if  the}^  thought  it  warn't  quite 
genteel,  a  little  too  much  in  the  help  style.  One  said  she 
came  for  rhe  benefit  of  the  lectur's  at  the  Lyceum,  another  to 
carry  a  little  sistor  to  dancin'  school,  and  a  third  to  assist  the 
fund  for  foreign  r.iissions,  and  so  on,  but  none  on  'em  to  w<'>k. 
Some  on  'em  lived  in  large  buildings  belongin'  to  the  far  ..ory, 
and  others  in  little  cottages — ^three  or  four  in  a  house. 

I  recollect  two  or  three  days  arter  I  arrived,  I  went  to  csU 
on  Miss  Naylor,  I)  knew  down  to  Squantum,  and  she  axed  me 
to  come  and  drink  tea  with  lier  and  the  two  ladiec  that  lived 
with  her.  So  in  the  evenin'  I  put  on  my  bettermost  clothesi 
and  went  down  to  tea.  This,  says  she,  introducin'  of  me  to 
the  ladies,  is  Mr.  Slick,  a  native  artist  of 'great  promise,  ana 
one  that  is  self-taught  too,  that  is  come  to  take  us  off;  and  this 
is  Miss  Jemima  Potts  of  Milldam,  in  Umbagog ;  and  this  is 
Miss  Binah  Dooly,  a  lady  from  Irdgian  Scalp,  Varmont.  Your 
sarvant,  ladies,  says  I ;  \  hope  I  see  you  well.  Beautiful  fac- 
tory this,  \K  whips  English  all  holler ;  our  free  and  enl'ghtened 
citizens^  have  exhibited  so  much  skill,  and  our  intelligent  and 
enterprise  V  ladies,  says  I,  (with  a  smile  and  a  bow  to  each,) 
so  much  iicience  and  taste,  that  I  reckon  we  might  stump  the 
univarsal  world  to  ditto  Lowell.  It  sartainly  is  one  of  the 
wonders  of  the  world,  says  Miss  Jemima  Potts ;  it  is  astonish- 
ing how  jealous  the  English  are,  it  makes  'em  so  ryled  they 
can 't  bear  to  praise  it  at  all.  There  was  one  on  'em  agoin'  thro' 
the  large  cotton  factory  to-day  with  Judge  Beler,  and,  says 
the  Judge  to,  him,  now  don't  this  astonish  you  \  said  he ;  don't 
it  exceed  any  idea  you  could  have  formed  of  it  ?  you  must 
allow  there  is  nothin'  like  it  in  Europe,  and  yet  this  is  only  in 
it's  infancy — it's  only  gist  beg"n.  Come  now,  confess  the 
fact,  don't  you  feeHhat  the  sun  of  England  is  set  for  ever  ? — 
her  glory  departed  to  set  up  its  standard  in  the  new  world  ? 
Speak  candidly  now,  for  I  should  like  to  hear  what  you  think. 


A^ 


TAKING  Orr  THE  FACTORY  LADIES. 


147 


>  they  do 
Well,  and 
id  gettin' 
ny  eaael, 
turn  my 
S9  taken ; 
)  a  sweet- 
emselvcs. 
!  for  bein* 
rn't  quite 
said  she 
mother  to 
assist  the 
I  to  w.k. 
e  far»ory, 
e. 

int  to  csU 
i  axed  me 
that  lived 
}st  clothes 
*  of  me  to 
>mise,  ana 
;  and  this 
nd  this  is 
ont.  Your 
utiful  fac- 
al'ghtened  , 
igent  and 
r  to  each,) 
stump  th«i 
one  of  the 
I  astonish- 
pyled  they 
goin'  thro* 
and.  says 
he;  don't 
you  must 
is  only  in 
onfess  the 
>r  ever  1 — 
BW  world? 
you  think. 


It  certainly  is  a  respectable  effort  for  a  youuff  coupiry  with  s 
thin  population,  said  he,  and  a  limited  capital,  and  is  creditft{( 
ble  to  the  skill  and  enterprise  of  New  England ;  but  as  for 
rivalry,  it's  wholly  out  of  the  question,  and  he  looked  as  mad 
as  if  he  oould  aswallered  a  wild-cat  alive.  Well,  well,  said 
the  Judge,  larfin*,  for  he  is  a  sweet-tempered,  dear  man,  and 
the  politest  one  too  I  ever  knew,  I  donU  altogether  know  as  it 
is  ^t  fiur  to  ask  you  to  admit  a  fact  so  humblin*  to  your 
national  pride,  and  so  mortifyin'  to  your  feelins*  as  p.7k  En<i 
glishman ;  but  I  can  easily  conceive  how  thunderstruck  yoi* 
must  have  been  on  ectcrin'  this  town  at  its  prodigious  pov/er, 
its  great  capacity,  its  wonderful  promise.  It's  generally  allow- 
ed to  be  the  first  thing  of  the  kind  in  the  world.  But  what  are 
you  alookin'  at,  Mr.  Slick  1  said  she ;  is  there  anything  on 
my  cheek?  I  was  only  athinkin',  says  I,  how  difficult  it 
would  be  to  paint  such  a'most  a  beautiful  complexion,  to  infuse 
into  it  the  soilness  and  richness  of  natures  colorin' ;  Pm  most 
afeerd  it  would  be  beyond  my  art — that's  a  fact. 

Oh,  you  artists  do  flatter  so,  said  she ;  tho*  flattery  is  a  part 
of  your  profession  I  do  believe ;  but  I'm  e'en  a'mtfst  sure 
there  is  somethin'  or  another  on  my  face, — and  she  got  up 
and  looked  into  the  ^lass  to  satisfy  herself,  it  would  a'  done 
you  good,  squire,  to  see  how  it  did  satisfy  her  too.  How  many 
of  the  ladies  have  you  taken  off?  said  Miss  Dooly.  I  have 
only  painted  three  said  I,  yet ;  but  I  have  thirty  bespoke. 
How  would  you  likt  to  be  painted,  said  I,  miss  ?  On  a  white 
horse,  said  she,  accompanyin'  of  my  father,  the  general,  to 
the  reviev/.  And  you,  said  I,  Miss  Naylor  ?  Astudyin'  Judge 
Naylor,  my  uncle's  specimens,  said  she,  in  the  lil>rary.  Says 
Miss  Jemima,  I  should  like  to  be  taken  off  in  my  brother's 
barge.  What  is  he  ?  said  I,  for  he  would  have  to  have  his 
uniform  on.  He?  said  she; — why,  he  is  a — and  she  looked 
away  and  coloured  up  like  anything — he's  an  ofiicer,  sir,  said 
she,  in  one  of  out  national  ships.  Yes,  miss,  said  I,  I  know  that ; 
but  officers  are  drebS'jd  accordin'  to  their  grade,  you  know,  in 
our  sarvice.  We  must  give  him  the  right  dress.  What  is 
his  grade?  The  other  two  ladies  turned  round  and  giggled, 
and  miss  Jemima  hung  down  her  head  and  looked  foolish. 
Says  Miss  Naylor,  why  don't  you  tell  him,  dear  ?  No,  says 
she,  I  won't ;  do  you  tell  him.  No,  indeed,  said  Miss  Naylor ; 
he  is  not  my  brother :  you  ought  to  know  best  what  he  w ; — 
do  you  tell  him  yourself.    Oh,  you  know  very  well,  Mr.  Slick, 


'•   vv 


4 


1     ! 


148 


THE   OLOCKMAKBR. 


said  she,  only  you  make  as  if  you  didn't,  to  poko  fun  at  me 
and  make  me  |^y  it.  I  hope  I  may  be  shot  if  !  do,  says  I, 
miss ;  I  nevdr  ii^rd  tell  of  him  afore,  and  if  ho  is  an  officer 
in  our  navy,  there  is  one  thing  I  can  tell  you,  says  I,  you 
needn't  be  ashamed  to  call  one  of  our  naval  heroes  your 
brother,  nor  to  tell  his  grade  neither,  for  there  ainH  an  office 
iu  the  sarvice  that  ain't  one  of  honour  and  glory.  The  British 
can  \vhii>  all  the  world,  and  we  can  whip  the  British. 

Well,  bays  she,  alookin'  down  and  takin'  up  her  handker- 
chief, and  turnin'  it  eend  for  eend  to  read  the  marks  in  the 
corner  of  it,  to  see  if  i*  vns  hern  or  not, — if  I  must,  then  I 
suppose  I  must ;  he's  a  rooster  swain  then,  but  it's  a  shame 
to  make  me.  A  rooster  swain  I  says  I ;  well,  I  vow  I  never 
heerd  that  grade  afore  in  all  my  born  days ;  I  hope  I  may  die 
if  I  did.  What  sort  ci  a  swain  is  k  rooster  swain  ?  How 
you  do  act,  Mr.  Slick,  said  she ;  ain't  you  ashamed  of  your- 
self? Do,  for  gracious  sake,  behave,  and  not  carry  on  so 
like  Old  Scratch.  ^^  You  are  goin'  too  far  now  ;  ain't  he.  Miss 
Naylor  1  Upon  tny  word  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  said 
Miss  Naylor,  affectin'  to  look  as  innocent  as  a  female  fox ; 
I'm  not  used  to  sea-tarms,  and  I  don't  onderstand  U  no  more 
than  he  does ;  and  Miss  Dooly  got  up  a  book,  and  began  to 
read  and  rock  herself  backward  and  forward  in  a  chair,  ast 
regilar  as  a  Mississippi  sawyer,  and  as  demure  as  you  please. 
Well,  thinks  I,  what  onder  the  sun  can  she  mean  ?  for  I  can't 
make  head  or  tail  of  it.    A  rooster  swain ! — a  rooster  swain ! 

says  I ;  do  tcil Well,  says  she,  you  make  me  feel  quite 

spunky,  and  if  you  don't  stop  this  minnit,  I'll  go  right  out  of 
the  room ;  it  ain't  fair  to  make  game  of  me  so,  and  I  don't 
thank  you  for  it  one  mite  or  morsel.  Says  I,  miss,  I  beg  your 
pardon ;  I'll  take  my  davy  I  didn't  mean  no  offence  at  all ; 
but,  upon  my  word  and  honour,  I  never  heerd  the  wrfAl  rooster 
swain  afore,  and  I  don't  mean  to  larf  at  your  brother  or  tease 
you  neither.  Well,  says  she,  I  suppose  you  never  will  ha* 
done,  so  turn  away  your  face  and  I  will  tell  you.  And  she 
got  up  and  turned  my  head  round  with  her  hands  to  the  wall, 
and  the  other  too  ladies  started  out,  and  said  they'd  go  an(j( 
see  arter  the  tea. 

Weil,  says  I,  are  you  ready  now,  miss  ?  Yes,  said  she  ;— 
a  rooster  swain,  if  you  must  know,  you  wicked  critter  you,  is 
a  cockswain  ;  a  word  you  know'd  well  enough  warn't  fit  for 
a  lady  to  speak :  so  take  that  to  remember  it  by, — and  she 


iinat  me 
i,Bay§  I, 
in  officer 
rs  I,  you 
oes  your 
an  office 
lie  British 

handker- 
cs  in  the 
St,  then  I 

a  shame 
ft  I  never 
[  may  die 
I?    How 

of  your- 
rry  on  so 

he.  Miss 
iean,  said 
[nale  fox ; 
t  no  more 

began  to 
chair,  as 
}u  please, 
or  I  can't 
3r  swain ! 

feel  quite 
;ht  out  of 
id  I  don't 

beg  your 
at  all; 
W  rooster 

•  or  tease 
will  ha* 

And  she 

the  wall, 

go   BXi^ 

14  she ; — 
er  you,  is 
rn't  fit  for 
—and  she 


TAKiiro  orr  thb  rAcronT  ladiss. 


149 


fetched  me  a  deuce  of  a  clip  on  the  side  of  the  face,  and  nm 
out  of  the  room.  Well,  I  swear  I  could  hardly  keep  from 
larfin'  right  out,  to  find  out  arter  ail  it  was  nothin'  but  a  cox»^ 
swain  she  made  such  a  touss  about ;  but  I  felt  kinder  sorry, 
too,  to  have  bothered  her  s  j,  for  I  recollect  there  was  the  same 
difficulty  among  our  ladies  last  war  about  the  name  of  the 
English  officer  that  took  Washington ;  they  called  him  always 
the  "  British  Admiral,"  and  there  warn't  a  lady  in  the  Union 
would  call  him  by  name.  I'm  a  great  friend  to  decency, — a 
very  great  friend  indeed,  squire, — for  decency  is  a  manly 
vartue ;  and  to  delicacy,  K^JdeHcacy  is  a  feminine  vartue ;  but 
^for  squeamishness,  lat  me  if  it  don't  make  me  sick. 

There  was  two  little  rooms  behind  the  keepin'  room;  one 
was  a  pantry,  and  t'other  a  kitchen.  It  was  into  the  fardest 
one  the  ladies  went  to  get  tea  ready,  and  presently  they 
brought  in  the  things  and  sot  them  down  on  the  table,  and  we 
all  got  sociable  once  more.  Ghi  as  we  began  conversation 
ag'in,  Miss  Jemima  Potts  said  she  must  go^and  bring  in  the 
cream  jug.  Well,  up  I  jumps,  and  follers  her  out,  and  says 
I,  pray  let  me,  miss,  wait  upon  you ;  it  ain't  fair  for  the  ladies 
to  do  this  when  the  gentlemen  are  by, — is  it  ?  Why  didn't 
you  call  on  me  ?  I  overtook  her  gist  at  the  kitchen  door.  But 
this  door-way,  said  I,  is  so  plaguy  narrer, — ain't  it?  There's 
hardly  room  for  two  to  pass  without  their  lips  atouchin',  is 
there?  Ain't  you  ashamed?  said  she;  I  believe  you  have 
broke  toy  comb  in  two, — that's  a  fact; — but  don't  do  that 
ag'in,  said  she,  awhisperin', — that's  a  dear  man  ;  Miss  Dooly 
will  hear  you,  and  tell  every  lady  in  the  factory,  for  she's 
plaguy  jealous ; — so  let  me  pass  iiow.  One  more  to  nfake 
friends,  said  I,  miss.  Hush !  said  she,-!~there — let  me  co ; 
and  she  put  the  jug  in  my  hand,  and  then  whipped  up  a  plate 
herself,  and  back  in  the  parlour  in  no  time. 

A  curtain,  says  I,  ladies,  (as  I  sot  down  ag'in,)  or  a  book* 
shelf,  I  could  introduce  into  the  pictur',  but  it  would  make  it  a 
work  o'  great  time  and  expense,  to  do  it  the  way  you  speak 
of;  and  besides,  said  I,  who  would  look  at  the  rest  if  the  face 
was  well  done  1  for  one  thing,  I  will  say,  three  prettier  faces 
never, was  seen  painted  on  canvass.  Oh,  Mr.  Slick,  says  they, 
how  you  bam  ! — ain't  you  ashamed  ?  Fact,  says  I,  ladies, 
upon  my  ho.^our : — a  fact,  and  no  mistake.  If  you  would 
allow  \ne,  ladids,  said  I,  to  suggest,  I  think  hair  done  up  high, 
lung  tortoise-shell  comb,  with  flowers  on  the  top,  would  become 
13* 


150 


THB  CLOOKMAKER. 


if 


you,  Miss  Naylor,  and  set  off  your  fine  Grecian  face  grand. 
A  fashionable  mornin'  cap,  lined  with  pink,  and  trimmed  with 
blue  bows,  would  set  off  your  portrait.  Miss  Dooly,  and 
become  your  splendid  Roman  profile  complete.  And  what  for 
me?  said  Jemima.  If  I  might  he  so  bold,  said  I,  I  would  advise 
leavin'  out  the  comb  in  your  case,  miss,  said  I,  as  you  are  tbll, 
and  it  might  perhaps  be  in  the  way,  and  be  broke  in  two,  (and 
1  pressed  her  foot  onder  the  table  with  mine ;)  and  I  would 
throw  the  hair  into  long  loose  nateral  curls,  and  let  the  neck 
and  shoulders  be  considerable  bare,  to  give  room  for  a  pearl 
necklace,  or  coral  beads,  or  any  little  splendid  ornament  of 
that  kind. — Miss  Jemima  looked  quite  delighted  at  this  idea, 
and,  jumpin'  up,  exclaimed,  Dear  me,  said  she,  I  forgot  the 
sugar-tongs !  I'll  gist  go  and  fetch  'em.  Allow  me,  says  I, 
miss,  follnrin*  her;  but  ain't  it  funny,  tho',  says  I,  too,  that  we 
should  gist  get  scroudged  ag'in  in  this  very  identical  little 
narrer  door-v/ay,^— ain't  it  ?  How  you  act,  said  she ;  now  this 
is  too  bad ;  that  curl  is  all  squashed,  I  declare ;  I  won't  come 
out  ag'in  to-night,  I  vow.  Nor  I  neither  then,  said  I  larfin ; 
let  them  that  wants  things  go  for  'em.  Then  you  couldn't 
introduce  the  specimens,  could  you  ?  said  Miss  Naylor.  The 
judge,  my  uncle,  has  a  beautiful  collection. — When  he  was  in 
business  as  a  master-mason,  he  built  the  great  independent 
Democratic  Sovereignty  Hall  at  Sam  Patchville,  (a  noble 
buiidin'  that,  Mr.  Slick, — it's  ginerally  allowed  to  be  the  first 
piece  of  architecture  in  the  world.)  He  always  broke  off  a 
piece  of  every  kind  of  stone  used  in  the  building,  and  it  makes 
a'most  a  complete  collection.  If  I  could  be  taken  off  at  a 
table  astudyin'  and  asortin'  'em  into  primary  formations, 
secondary  formations,  and  trap,  I  should  like  it  amazin'ly. 

Well,  says  I,  I'll  do  the  best  I  can  to  please  you,  miss,  for 
I  never  hear  of  secondary  formations  without  pleasure, — that's 
a  fact.  The  ladies,  you  know,  are  the  secondary  formation, 
for  they  were  formed  arter  man,  and  as  for  trap,  says  I,  if 
they  ain't  up  to  that,  it's  a  pity.  Why,  as  I'm  alive,  said  I, 
if  that  ain't  the  nine  o'clock  bell :  well,  how  time  has  flowed, 
hasn't  it  ?  I  suppose  I  must  be  amovin',  as  it  is  gettin'  on 
considerable  late,  but  I  must  say  I've  had  a  most  delightful 
evejiin'  as  ever  I  spent  in  my  life.  When  a  body,  says  I,  finds 
himself  in  a  circle  of  literary  and  scientific  ladies,  he^takes  no 
note  of  time,  it  passes  so  smooth  and  quick.  Now,  says  I, 
ladies,  excuse  me  for  mentionin'  a  little  bit  of  business,  but  it 


TAKING  OIT  TBB  rACTCRY  LADIES. 


IM 


ce  grand, 
imed  with 
ooly,  and 
I  what  for 
uld  advise 
lu  are  tbll} 
two,  (and 
I  I  would 

the  neck 
3r  a  pearl 
lament  of 
this  idea, 
forgot  the 
le,  says  I, 
>o,  that  we 
tical  little 
;  now  this 
on*t  come 
d  I  larfin ; 
u  couldn't 
lor.  The 
he  was  in 
dependent 

(a  noble 

the  first 
'oke  off  a 
d  it  makes 

off  at  a 
>rmations, 
izin'ly. 

miss,  for 
e, — that's 
brmation, 
says  I,  if 
e,  said  I, 
IS  flowed, 
gettin'  on 

delightful 
ys  I,  finds 

Intakes  no 
r,  says  I, 
3ss,  but  it 


is  usual  in  my  profession  to  be  paid  one-half  in  advance ;  but 
with  the  ladies  I  dispense  with  that  rule,  says  I,  on  one  con- 
dition,— ^I  receive  a  kiss  as  airnsst.  Oh,  Mr.  Slick,  says  they, 
how  can  you  1  No  kiss,  no  pictur',  says  I.  Is  that  an  inva- 
riable rule?  says  ili3y.  I  never  deviated  from  it  in  my  life, 
said  I,  especially  where  the  ladies  are  so  beautiful  as  my  kind 
fiiends  here  to-night  are.  Thank  you,  my  sweet  Miss  Nay  lor, 
said  I.  Oh,  did  you  ever — ?  said  she.  And  you  also,  dear 
Miss  Dooly.  Oh,  my  sakes,  said  she,  how  cndecent !  I  wish 
I  could  take  my  pay  altogether  in  that  coin,  said  I.  Well, 
you'll  get  no  such  airnest  from  me,  I  can  tell  you,  said  Miss 
Jemima,  and  off  she  sot  and  darted  out  o'  the  room  like  a  kit- 
ten, and  I  arter  her.  Oh,  that  dear  little  narrer  door-way 
seems  made  on  purpose,  si  id  I,  don't  it?  Well,  I  hope  you 
are  satisfied  now,  said  she,  you  forward,  impudent  critter; 
you've  taken  away  my  breath  a'most.  Good  night,  ladies, 
said  I.  Good  night,  Mr.  Slick,  says  they ;  don't  forget  to  call 
and  take  us  off  to*morrow  at  intermission.  And,  says  Miss 
Jemima,  walkin'  out  as  far  as  the  gate  with  me,  when  not  bet- 
ter engaged,  we  shall  be  happy  to  see  you  sociably  to  tea. 
Most  happy,  miss,  said  I ;  only  I  fear  I  shall  call  oftener  than 
will  be  agreeable ;  but,  dear  me !  says  I,  I've  forgot  somethin' 
I  declare,  and  I  turned  right  about.  Perhaps  you  forgot  it  in 
the  little  narrer  door-way,  said  she,  alarfin'  and  asteppin' 
backwards,  and  holdin'  up  both  hands  to  fend  off.  What  is 
it?  said  she,  and  she  looked  up  as  saucy  and  as  rompy  as  you 
please.  Why,  said  I,  that  dreadful,  horrid  name  you  called 
your  brother.  What  was  it  ?  for  I've  forgot  it,  I  vow.  Look 
about  and  find  out,  said  she ;  it's  what  you  ain't,  and  never 
was,  and  never  will  be,  and  that's  a  gentleman.  You  are  a 
nasty,  dirty,  ondecent  man, — that's  flat,  and  if  you  don't  like 
it  you  may  lump  it,  so  there  now  for  you — good  night.  But 
stop — shake  hands  afore  you  go,  said  she ;  let's  part  friends, 
and  she  held  out  her  hand.  Gist  as  I  was  agoin'  to  take  it,  it 
slipt  up  like  flash  by  my  face,  and  tipt  my  hat  off  over  my 
shoulder,  and  as  I  turned  and  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  she  up 
with  her  little  foot  and  let  me  have  it,  and  pitched  me  right 
over  on  my  knees.  It  was  done  as  quick  as  wink.  Even  and 
quit  now,  said  she,  as  good  friends  as  ever.  Done,  said  I. 
But  l^sl),  said  she ;  that  critter  has  the  ears  of  a  mole,  and 
the  eyes  of  a  lynx.  What  critter?  said  I.  Why,  that  fright- 
ful, ugly  varment  witch,  Binah  Dooly,  if  she  ain't  acomin'  out 


162 


THB  CUKiKHAKER. 


here,  as  Vm  a  livin*  sinner.  Come  again  soon-— that's  a  dear ! 
— ffood  night  !'*^^nd  she  sailed  back  as  demure  as  if  nothin* 
had  ahappeaed.  Ye  i,  squire,  the  Honourable  Eli  Wad,  the 
foundationalist,  was  right  when  he  said  I'd  see  suntbin*  of 
human  natur*  among  the  factory  galls.  The  ways  of  woman 
kind  are  wonderful  indeed.  This  was  my  first  lesson,  that 
squeamiahneaa  and  indelicacy  are  often  found  urnted;  in  shart, 
tfuU  in  manners,  as  in  other  thingt,  extremes  meet. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER  ABROAD. 


'§;■ 


The  road  from  Chester  to  Halifax  is  one  of  the  worst  in  the 
province ;  and  delight  failing  us  before  we  made  half  our 
journey,  we  were  compelled  to  spend  the  night  at  a  small  un- 
licensed house,  the  occasional  resort  of  fishermen  and  coasters. 
There  was  but  one  room  in  the  shanty,  besides  the  kitchen 
and  bed>room ;  and  that  one,  though  perfectly  clean,  smelt 
intolerably  of  smoked  salmon  that  garnished  its  rafters.  A 
musket,  a  light  fowling-piece,  and  a  heavy  American  rifle, 
were  slung  on  the  beams  that  supported  the  floor  of  the  garret; 
and  snow-shoes,  fishing-rods,  and  small  dip-nets  with  long  ash 
handles,  were  secured  to  the  wall  by  iron  hooks.  Altogether 
it  had  a  sporting  appearance,  that  ii^dicated  the  owner  to  be 
one  of  those  amphibious  animals  to  whom  land  or  water  is 
equally  natural,  and  who  prefer  the  pleasures  of  the  chase  and 
the  fishery  to  the  severer  labour  but  more  profitable  employ- 
ment of  tilling  the  soil.  A  few  fancy  articles  of  costly  mate- 
rials and  superior  workmanship  that  ornamented  the  mantel- 
piece and  open  closet,  (probably  presents  from  the  gentlemen 
of  the  garrison  at  Halifax,)  showed  that  there  were  sometimes 
visiters  of  a  diflferent  description  from  the  ordinary  customers. 
As  the  house  was  a  solitary  one,  and  situated  at  the  head  of  a 
deep,  well-sheltered  inlet,  it  is  probable  that  smuggling  may 
have  added  to  the  profits,  and  diversified  the  pursuits  of  the 
owner.  He  did  not,  however,  make  his  appearance.  He  had 
gone,  his  wife  said,  in  his  boat  that  afternoon  to  Margaret's 
bay,  a  distance  of  eight  miles,  to  procure  some  salt  to  cure  his 
fish,  and  would  probably  not  return  before  the  morning. 


\ 


THE  SCaOOLMASTBR  ABROAD. 


US 


's  a  dear ! 
if  nothin* 
Wad,  the 
inthin*  of 
Df  woman 
won,  that 
;  in  thori. 


>r8t  in  the 

half  our 
small  un- 

coasters. 
e  kitchen 
an,  smelt 
fleni.  A 
can  rifle, 
le  garret ; 

long  ash 
iltogether 
ler  to  be 

water  is 
hase  and 

employ- 
tly  mate- 
!  maiitel- 
entlemen 
}meiimes 
istomers. 
lead  of  a 
ing  may 
ts  of  the 

He  had 
argaret's 

cure  his 
ag. 


Pve  been  here  before,  you  see,  squire,  said  Mr.  Slick,  point* 
ing  to  a  wooden  clock  in  the  corner  of  the  room ;  folks  that 
have  nothin*  to  do  like  to  see  how  the  time  goes,-'«nd  a  man 
who  takes  a  glass  of  grogat  twelve  o'clock  is  tSie  most  punc- 
tual feller  in  the  world.  The  draft  is  always  honoured  when 
it  falls  due.  But  who  have  we  here  ?  As  he  saidi  this,  a  man 
entered  the  room,  carrying  a  small  bundle  in  hk  band,  tied 
up  in  a  dirty  silk  pocket-handkerchief.  He  was  dreswd  in 
an  old  suit  of  rusty  black,  much  the  worse  for  wear.  His  face 
bore  the  marks  of  intemperance,  and  he  appeared  much  fa- 
tigued with  his  journey,  which  he  had  performed  alone  and  on 
foot.  I  hope  I  don't  intrude,  gentlemen,  said  he ;  but  you  see 
Dulhanty,  poor  fellow,  has  but  one  room,  and  poverty  makes 
us  acquainted  with  strange  bed-fellows  sometimes.  Brandy, 
my  little  girl,  and  some  cold  water ;  take  it  out  of  the  north 
side  of  the  well,  my  dear,— and,— -do  you  hear, — be  quick, 
for  I'm  choked  with  the  dust.  Gentlemen,  will  you  take  some, 
brandy  and  water  1  said  he.  Dulhanty  always  keeps  some 
good  brandy, — ^none  o'  your  wretched  Yankee  peach  brandy, 
that's  enough  to  pysbn  a  horse,  but  real  Cogniak.  Weil,  I 
don't  care  if  I  do,  said  Mr.  Slick.  Arter  you,  sir.  By  your 
leave,  the  watejr,  sir.  Gentlemen,  all  your  healths,  said  the 
stranger.  Good  brandy  that,  sir ;  yoii  had  better  take  another 
glass  before  the  water  gets  warm,-^and  he  helped  himself 
again  most  liberally.  Then,  taking  a  survey  of  the  Clock- 
maker  and  myself,  observed  to  Mr.  Slick  that  he  thought  he 
had  seen  him  before.    Well,  it's  not  onlikely ; — where? 

Ah,  that's  the  question,  sir ;  I  cannot  exactly  say  where. 
•  Nor  I  neither. 

Which  way  may  you  be  traveliin'  ?    Down  east  I  expect. 

Which  way  are  you  from  then  ?    Some  where  down  South. 

The  traveller  again  applied  himself  to  brandy  and  water. 

Ahem !  then  you  are  from  Lunenbnrg. 

Well,  I  won't  say  I  warn't  at  Lunenburg. 

Ahem  I  pretty  place  that  Lunenburg ;  but  they  speak 
Dutch.  D — n  the  Dutch ;  I  hate  Dutch :  there's  no  language 
like  English. 

Then  I  suppose  you  are  going  to  Halifax  ? 

Well,  I  won't  say  I  won't  go  to  Halifax  «fore  I  return, 
neither. 

A  nice  town  that  Halifax — good  fish-market  there ;  but 
they  are  not  like  the  English  fish  a'ter  all.    Halibut  is  a  poor 


154 


TBB  OLOOKMAKBR. 


,.;-m< 


? 


substitute  for  the  good  old  Tilnglish  turbot.  Where  did  you 
say  you  were  from,  sir  ? 

I  don't  gist  altogether  mind  that  I  said  I  was  from  any 
place  in  partikilar,  but  from  down  south  last. 

Ahem !  your  health,  sir ;  perhaps  vou  are  like  myself,  sir, 
a  stranger,  and  have  no  home ;  and,  after  all,  there  is  no 
home  like  England.    Pray  what  part  of  England  are  you 

I  estimate  Pm  not  from  England  at  all. 

Pm  sorry  for  you,  Ihew ;  but  where  the  devil  are  you  from? 

In  a  general  way  fo'ks  i&y  Vm  from  the  States. 

Knock  them  down  then,  d — n  them.  If  any  man  was  to' 
insult  me  by  calling  me  a  Yankee,  Pd  k<ck  him  ;  but  the 
Yemkees  have  no  seat  of  honour  to  kick.  If  I  hadn't  been 
thinkin'  more  of  my  brandy  and  water  than  vour  answers,  I 
might  have  known  yon  were  a  Yankee  by  your  miserable 
evasions.  They  never  give  a  straight  answer — there's  nothing 
straight  about  thepn,  but  their  long  backs, — and  he  was  asleep 
in  his  chair,  overcome  by  the  unl'ed  efi^cts  of  the  heat,  the 
brsndy,  and  fatigue. 

That's  cae  o'  their  schoolmasters,  said  Mr.  Slick  ;  and  it's 
no  wonder  the  Blue-noses  are  such  'cute  chaps  when  they  got 
such  masters  as  that  are  to  teach  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot. 
The  critter  has  axed  more  questions  in  ten  minutes  than  if  he 
was  a  full-blooded  Yankee,  tho'  he  does  hate  them  so  peeower- 
fully.  He's  an  Englishman,  and,  I  guess,  has  seen  better 
dayj  ;  but  he's  ruinated  by  drink  now..  When  he  is  about 
half  shaved  he  is  aneverlastin'  quarrelsom'  critter,  and  carries 
a  most  plaguy  oncivil  tc  igue  in  his  head :  that's  the  reason  I 
didn't  let  on  v^here  I  come  from,  for  he  hates  un  like  pyson. 
But  there  air't  many  such  critters  here^  the  'ilnglish  don't 
emigrate  here  much, — they  go  to  Canada  or  the.  States  :  and 
it's  strange,  too,  for,  squire,  this  is  the  best  location  iii  e!l 
America,  is  Nova  Scotia,  if  the  British  did  but  know  it. 

It  will  have  the  greatest  trade,  the  greatest  population,  tho 
most  nianufactur's,  and  the  most  wealth  of  any  state  this  side 
of  the  watsr.  The  resources,  nateral  advr.ntages,  and  politi- 
cal position  of  this  p'ace  beat  aU.  Take  it  altogether,  J  don't 
knjw  gist  such  c.  country  in  tho  univarsal  woi^d  a'most. 
"What!  Nova  Scotia?  said  I:  this  poor  little  coiony,  this 
Ultima  Thule  of  America, — what  is  ever  to  make  it  a  place 
iif  any  consequt-r  i©.?    Everything,  squire,  said  he,  every- 


ot 
a 


■iA) 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER  ABROAD. 


IM 


«  did  you 

B  firom  aoy 

nyself,  sir, 
here  is  no 
d  are  you 

you  Irom  ? 

lan  was  to' 
» ;  but  the 
ladn't  been 
'inswers,  I 
miserable 
)'8  nothing 
«vas  asleep 
)  heat,  the 

;  and  it's 
n  they  got 
V  to  shoot, 
than  if  he 
)  peeow?T' 
sen   better 

is  about 
nd  carries 

reason  I 
re  pyson. 
lish  don't 
ates  :  and 
ion  ill  ell 

r  it. 

ation,  the 
his  side 
nd  politi- 
r,  I  tion't 
a'most. 
ony,  this 
it  a  place 
c,  every- 


thing that  constitutes  greatness.  I  wish  we  had  it,— that's  allf 
and  we  will  have  it  too,  some  o'  these  days,  if  they  don't  look 
sharp.  In  the  first  place  it  has  more  nor  twice  as  many  great 
men-o'*war  harbours  in  it,  capable  of  holdin'  the  whole  navy 
in  it,  stock)  lock,  and  barrel,  than  we  have  from  Maine  to 
Mexico,  besides  innumerable  small  harbours,  island  lees,  and 
other  shelters,  and  it's  gist  all  but  an  island  itself;  and  most 
all  the  best  o'  tlieir  harbours  don't  freeze  up  at  no  time.  It 
ai'nt  shut  up  like  Canada  and  our  back  country ^11  winter, 
but  you  can  in  and  out  as  you  please ;  and  its  so  intersected 
with  rivers  and  lakes,  most  no  part  of  it  is  twenty  miles  from 
navigable  water  to  the  sea, — and  then  it  u  the  nearest  point 
of  our  continent  to  Europe.  All  that,  said  I,  is  very  true ; 
but  good  harbours,  though  necessary  for  trade,  are  not  the 
only  things  requisite  in  commerce.  But  it's  in  the  midst  of 
the  fisheries,  squire, — all  sorts  of  fisheries,  too.  River  fish- 
eries q£  shad,  salmon,  gasperaux,  and  herring — shore  fishery 
of  mackerel  and  cod — bank  fishery  and  Labrador  fishery. 
Oh  dear !  it  beats  all,  and  they  don't  do  nothin'  with  'em,  but 
leave  'em  to  us.  They  don't  seem  to  think  'em  worth  havin* 
or  keepin',for  government  don't  protect  'em.  See  what  a 
school  for  seamen  that  is,  to  man  the  ships  to  fill  the  harbours. 
Then  look  at  the  beeowels  of  the  airth ;  only  think  of  the 
coal  ,*  and  it's  no  use  atalkin',  that's  the  only  coal  to  supply 
us  that  we  can  rely  on.  Why,  there  ain't  nothing  like  it.  It 
ext?nds  all  the  way  from  bay  of  Fuhdy  right  out  to  Pictou, 
thro'  the  province,  and  then  under  all  the  island  of  Cape  Bre- 
ton ;  and  some  o'  them  seams  are  the  biggest,  and  thickest, 
and  deepest  ever  yet  discovered  since  the  world  began. 
Berutiful  coal  it  is  too.  Then  natur'  has  given  'em  most 
rra.id  a^  indant  iron-ore,  here  and  ihere  and  every  where,  and 
wood  and  coal  to  work  it.  Only  think  o'  them  two  things  in 
such  abundance,  and  ^  country  possessed  of  first  chop-water 
powerd  everywhere,  and  then  tell  me  Providence  hasn't  laid 
♦he  foundation  of  a  manufactorin'  nation  hers.  But  that  ain't 
all.  Gist  see  tha  plaster  of  Paris,  what  al'^ighty  big  he&ps 
of  it  there  is  here.  We  use  already  more  nor  a  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  tons  of  it  a-year  for  manure,  and  we  shcill  want 
ten  times  that  quantity  yet, — we  can't  do  without  it :  It  has 
done  more  for  us  than  steam ;  it  has  made  our  barren  l>.'nds 
fertile,  and  whole  tracts  habitable,  that  never  would  have  been 
worth  a  cent  an  acre  without  it.    It  will  go  to  South  America 


I 


|: 


I 


I 


TM  THl  OLOOXMAKBR. 

and  the  West  Indgies  yet — it  is  the  magic  wand— h*s  the  phi- 
losopher's stone ;  I  hope  I  may  be  shot  if  it  ain't ;  it  turns  all 
it  touches  into  gold.  See  what  a  sight  of  vessels  it  takes  io 
carry  a  great  bulky  article  like  that — what  a  sight  of  men  it 
employs,  what  a  host  of  folks  it  feeds,  what  a  batch  of  sailors 
it  bakes,  what  hardy  tars  for  the  wooden  walls  of  Old  England. 
But  Old  England  is  as  blind  as  a  bat,  and  Blue-nose  is  a  puppy 
only  nine  days  old ;  he  can't  see  yet.  If  the  critter  was  well 
trained,  h^d  his  ears  cropped  and  tongue  wormed,  he  might 
turn  out  a  decent-lookin'  whelp  yet,  for  the  old  one  is  a  good 
nurse  and  feeds  well.  Well,  then,  look  at  the  lead,  copper, 
slate,  (and  as  for  sUte,  they  may  stump  Wales,  I  know,  to- pro- 
duce the  like,)  granite,  grindstone,  freestone,  lime,  manganese, 
salt,  sulphur.  Why,  they've  got  everything  but  enterprise, 
and  that  I  do  believe  in  my  soul  they  expect  to  find  a  mine  of, 
and  dig  up  out  of  the  ground  as  they  do  coal.  But  the  soil, 
squire,  where  will  you  find  the  like  o'  that?  A  considerable 
part  of  it  along,  the  coast  is  poor,  no  doubt ;  but  it's  the  fishin' 
side  of  the  province,  and  therefore  it's  all  right ;  but  the  bay 
side  is  a  tearin',  rippin'  fine  country.  Them  dyke  mashes 
have  raised  hay  and  grain  year  arter  year  now  for  a  whole 
centery  without  manure,  and  I  guess  will  continue  to  do  so 
from  July  to  etarnity.  Then  natur'  has  given  them  that  sea- 
mud,  salt  sand,  sea  weed,  and  river  sludge  for  dressin'  their 
upland,  so  that  it  could  be  made  to  carry  wheat  till  all's  blue 
again. 

If  it  possesses  all  ihese  advantages  you  speak  of,  said  I,  it 
will  doubtless  be  some  day  or  another  both  a  populous  and 
rich  country ;  but  still  it  does  not  appear  to  me  that  it  can  be 
compared  to  the  country  of  the  Mississippi.  Why,  squire, 
said  he,  ifyou  was  once  to  New  Orlcens,  I  think  you  wouldn't 
say  so.  That  is  a  great  country,  no  doubt,  too  great  to  com- 
pare to  a  small  province  like  this;  great  resources,  great 
river,  fertile  land,  great  trade ;  but  the  climate  is  awful,'  and 
the  emigrant  people  ain't  much  better  than  the  climate.  The 
folks  at  New  Orleens  put  me  in  mind  of  children  playing  in  a 
churchyard,  jurnpin'  over  the  graves,  hidin'  behind  the  tombs, 
a  larfin'  at  the  en  lems  of  mortality,  and  the  queer  old 
rhymes  under  'em,  all  full  of  life,  ar.d  glee,  and  fun  above 
ground,  while  onderneath  it  is  a  great  charnd -house,  full  of 
winding  sheets,  skeletons,  and  generations  of  departed  citizens. 
That  are  place  is  built  in  a  bar  in  the  harbor,  made  of  snags. 


THB  80B0QUIASTBR  ABROAD. 


197 


it's  the  phi- 
it  turni  all 
it  takes  io 
t  of  men  it 
sh  of  sailors 
Id  England, 
e  is  a  puppy 
er  was  well 
1,  he  might 
e  is  a  good 
!ad,  copper, 
low,  to- pro- 
manganese, 
enterprise, 
d  a  mine  of, 
tut  the  soil, 
;onsiderable 
s  the  fishin* 
)ut  the  bay 
fke  mashes 
for  a  whole 
ie  to  do  so 
m  that  sea- 
ressin'  their 
11  airs  blue 

»f,  said  I,  it 
»puIous  and 
at  it  can  be 
hy,  squire, 
ou  wouldn't 
'eat  to  com- 
rces,  great 
awful,'  and 
nate.  The 
(laying  in  a 

the  tombs, 
J  queer  old 

fun  above 
ise,  full  of 
ed  citizens, 
e  of  sna^, 


4riiUwood»  vaA  chokes,  heaped  up  by  the  mtt,  and  then  filled 
lUDkid  corervd  with  the  wdiment  and  alluvial  of  the  tMk  bottooM 
above,  brought  down  by  the  freshets.  It*0  peopled  in  the  aama 
way.  The  eddies  and  tides  of  business  of  all  that  country 
centre  there,  and  the  froth  and  scum  are  washed  up  and  settle 
at  New  Orleens.  It's  Ailed  with  all  sorts  of  people,  blaek, 
white,  and  Indgians,  and  their  di^rent  shades,  French*  Spa- 
nish, Portuguese,  and  Dutch ;  English,  Irish,  and  Scotch,  and 
then  people  from  every  state  in  the  Union.  These  last  have 
ell  nicknames.  There's  the  hoosiers  of  Indiana,  the  stuckers 
of  lUinoy,  the  pukes  of  Missuri,  the  buckeyes  of  Ohio,  the 
red  horses  of  Kentucky,  the  mudheads  of  Tennessee,  the 
Wolverines  of  Michigan,  the  eels  of  New  England,  and  the 
com  crackers  of  Virginia.  All  these,  with  many  others, 
make  up  the  population,  which  is  mottled  with  black  and  all 
its  shades ;  'most  all  too  is  supplied  by  emigratiou.  It  is  a 
great  caravansary  filled  with  strangers,  dissolute  enough  to 
make  your  hair  stand  an  eend,  drinkin'  all  day,  gamblin'  all 
night,  and  fightin'  all  the  time.  Death  pervadee  all  natur' 
there;  it  breathes  in  the  air,  and  it  floats  on  the  water,  and 
rises  in  the  vapours  and  exhalations,  and  rides  on  the  whirlwind 
and  teQtpest :  it  dwells  on  the  dr9u^t,  and  also  in  the  inun- 
dation. Above,  below,  within,  around,  everywhere  is  death ; 
but  who  knows,  or  misses,  or  mourns  the  stranger  1  Dig  a 
grave  for  him,  and  you  plunge  him  into  the  water,—-!!^ 
worms  eat  the  coffin,  and  the  crocodiles  have  the  body.  We 
have  mills  to  Rhode  Island  with  sarcular  saws,  and  apparatus 
for  makin'  packin'  boxes.  At  one  of  these  factories  they 
used  to  make  'em  in  the  shape  of  coffins,  and  then  they  served 
a  doiil/le  purpose ;  they  carried  out  inions  to  New  Orleens, 
and  then  carried  out  the  dead  to  their  graves. 

That  are  city  was  made  by  the  freshets.  It's  a  chance  if 
it  ain't  carried  away  by  them.  It  may  yet  be  its  fate  to  be 
swept  clean  off  by  'em  to  mingle  once  more  with  the  stream 
that  deposited  it,  and  form  new  land  further  down  the  river. 
It  may  chance  to  be  a  spot  to  be  pointed  out  from  the  steam- 
boats as  the  place  where  a  great  city  once  stood,  and  .  great 
battle  was  once  fought,  in  which  the  genius  and  valour  of  the 
new  world  triumphed  over  the  best  troops  and  beet  ginerals  of 
Europe.  That  place  is  jist  like  a  hot-bed>  and  the  folks  like 
the  plants  in  it.  People  do  grow  rich  fast;  but  they  look 
Hinder  spindlin'  and  weak,  and  they  are  e'en  a'most  choked 
14 


g. 


\i 


II 


168 


TBI  OLOOXMAKUU 


^JMm' 


with  weeda  uift  toad-stoolt^  that  grow  every  bit  and  grain  ai 
fiwt,  —  and  twice  as  nateral.  The  Blue-noses  don't  know 
how  to  valy  this  location,  squire, — that's  a  fact,  for  its  a'most 
a  ffrand  one. 

what's  a  grand  location  1  said  the  schooi-master,  waking 
up.  Nova  Scotia,  said  Mr.  Slick.  I  was  just  atellin*  of  the 
squire,  it's  a  grand  location.  D — n  the  location,  said  he; 
I  hate  the  word ;  it  ain't  Enelish ;  there  are  no  words  like  the 
Elnfflish  words. — Here,  my  Tittle  girl,  more  brandy,  my  dear, 
andsome  fresh  water ;  mind  it's  fresh, — take  it  out  of  the  bottom 
of  the  well — do  you  hear  1 — the  coldest  spot  in  the  well ;  and 
be  quick,  for  I'm  burnt  up  with  the  heat  tO'dav.  Who's  for 
a  pull  of  grog?  suppose  we  have  a  pull,  gentfemen~~a  good 
pull,  and  a  strong  pull,  and  a  pull  altogether,  eh  I  Here^  to 
YOU,  gentlemen! — ah,  thr-'s  good!  you  are  sure  of  good 
brandy  here.  I  say.  Mister  L<^tion,  won't  you  moisten  the 
clay,  eh  ?— -come,  my  honest  fellow  I  I'll  take  another  glass 
with  you  to  our, better  acquaintance: — you  won't,  eh?  well, 
then,  I'll  supply  your  deficiency  myself;  here's  luck !  Where 
did  you  say  you  were  from,  sir  ?  I  don't  mind  that  I  indicated 
where  I  was  fVom  gist  in  petikilar.  No,  you  didn't;  but 
I  twig  you  now,  my  bo}^,^Sam  Slick,  the  ClockmakerJ  And 
so  you  say  this  is  a  nice  /ocation,  do  you  ?  Yes,  it  is  a  nice 
location  indeed  for  a  gentleman  this, — a  location  for  pride  and 
poverty,  for  ignorance  and  assumption,  for  folly  and  vice. 
Curse  the  location  I  I  say ;  there's  no  location  like  old  Ene- 
land.  This  is  a  poor  man's  country,  sir ;  but  not  a  rich  man  s 
or  a  gentleman's.  There's  nothing  this  side  of  the  water,  sir, 
approaching  to  the  class  of  gentry.  They  have  neither  the 
feelings,  the  sentiments,  nor  the  breeding.  They  know  nothing 
about  it.  What  little  they  have  here,  sir,  are  second  hand 
airs  copied  from  poor  models  that  necessity  forces  out  here. 
It  is  the  farce  of  high  life  below  stairs,  sir,  played  in  a  poor 
theatre  to  a  provincial  audience.  Poor  as  I  am,  humble  as  I  am, 
and  degraded  as  I  am, — for  I  am  now  all  three, — I  have  seen 
better  days,  and  was  not  always  the  houseless  wanderer  you 
now  see  me.  I  know  what  I  am  talking  about.  There  is 
nothing  beyond  respectable  mediocrity  here ;  there  never  can 
be,  there  is  no  material  for  it,  there  is  nothing  to  support  it. 
Some  fresh  water,  my  dear ;  that  horrid  water  is  enough  to 
scald  one's  throat.  The  worst  of  a  colony  is,  sir,  there  is  no 
field  for  ambition,  no  room  for  talents,  no  reward  for  distin- 


THB  80HOOL1IA8TSR   ABROAD. 


IM 


I  miiiai 
>n't  know 
it«a*inofl 

r,  waking 

lin*  of  the 

,  said  he; 

Is  like  the 

,  my  dear, 

the  bottom 

well;  and 

Who's  for 

a— a  ffood 

HereVi  to 

e  of  good 

loisten  the 

>ther  glass 

eh?  well, 

:!    Where 

r  indicated 

idn't;  but 

cerJ    And 

It  is  a  nice 

pride  and 

and  vice. 

old  Ene< 

rich  man's 

water,  sir, 

leither  the 

>w  nothing 

ond  hand 

out  here. 

in  a  poor 

e  as  I  am, 

have  seen 

derer  you 

There  is 

never  can 

lupport  it. 

enough  to 

here  is  no 

for  distin- 


guished exertions.  It  is  a  rich  country  for  a  poor  man,  and 
a  poor  country  for  a  rich  one.  There  is  no  permanent  upper 
class  of  society  here  or  any  where  else  in  America.  There 
are  rich  men,  learned  men,  agreeablemen,  liberal  men,  and 
good  men,  but  very  few  gentlemen.  The  breed  ain't  pure ;  it 
IS  not  kept  long  enough  distinct  to  refine,  to  obtain  the  dis- 
tinctive marks,  to  become  generic.  Dry  work  this  talkin'; 
— your  health,  gentlemen  I — a  good  fellow  that  Dulhanty,— > 
suppose  we  drink  his  health  7  he  always  keeps  good  brandy,— 
there's  not  a  head-ache  in  a  gallon  of  it. 

What  was  I  talking  aboutl^-Oh  1  I  have  it — ^the  location, 
as  those  drawling  Yankees  call  it.  Yes,  instead  of  importing 
horses  here  from  England  to  improve  the  breed,  they  should 
import  gentlemen;  they  want  the  true  breed,  they  want  blood. 
Yes,  said  the  Clockmaker,  (whom  I  had  never  known  to 

remain  silent  so  long  before,)  I  guess.     Yes,  d n  you  I 

said  the  stranger,  what  do  you  know  about  it  ? — you  know  as 
much  about  a  gentleman  as  a  cat  does  of  music.  If  you  inter- 
rupt m^  again,  I'll  knock  your  two  eyes  into  one,  you  clock- 
making,  pumpkin-headed,  peddling,  cheating  Yankee  vaga- 
bond. The  sickly  waxwork  imitation  of  gentility  here,  the 
faded  artificial  flower  of  fashion,  the  vulsar  pretension,  the 
contemptible  struggle  for  precedence,  make  one  look  across 
the  Atlantic  with  a  longing  after  the  freshness  of  nature,  for 
life  and  its  realities.  AH  North  America  is  a  poor  country 
with  a  poor  climate.  I  would  not  give  Ireland  for  the  whole 
of  it.  This  Nova  Scotia  is  the  best  part  of  it,  and  has  the 
greatest  resources,  but  still  there  is  no  field  in  a  colony  for  a 
man  of  talent  and  education.  Little  ponds  never  hold  big  fish, 
there  is  nothing  but  polly  wogs,  tadpoles,  and  minims  in  them. 
Look  at  them  as  they  swim  thro  the  shallow  water  of  the 
margins  of  their  little  muddy  pool,  following  some  small  fel- 
low an  inch  long,  the  leader  of  the  shoal,  that  thinks  himself 
a  whale,  and  if  you  do  not  despise  cheir  pretensions,  you 
will,  at  least^  be  compelled  to  laugh  at  their  absurdities.  Gro 
to  every  legislature  this  side  of  the  water  from  <  Congress  to 
Halifax,  and  hear  the  stuff  that  is  talked.  Go  to  every  press 
and  see  the  stuff  that  is  printed ;  go  to  the  people,  and  see  the 
stuff  that  is  uttered  or  :.  ^allowed,  and  then  tell  me  this  is  a 
location  for  any  thing  above  mediocrity.  What  keeps  you 
here,  then  1  said  Mr.  Slick,  if  it  is  such  an  everlastin'  misera- 
ble country  as  you  lay  it  out  to  be.    I'll  tell  you  sir,  said  he^ 


•A 


■-/■«• 


1 


160 


•i««^  'THE   CliOCKMAKER. 


and  he  dramed  off  the  whole  of  the  brandy,  as  if  to  prepaid 
for  the  efibrt.  I  will  tell  you  what  keeps  me,  and  he  placed 
his  hands  on  his  knees,  and  looking  the  Clockmaker  steadily 
in  the  face  until  every  muscle  worked  with  emotion — I'll  tell 
you,  sir,  if  you  must  know-^my  n^isfortune.  The  eflfort  and 
the  brandy  overpowered  him ;  he  fell  from  his  chair,  and  we 
removed  him  to  a  bed,  loosened  his  cravat,  and  left  him  to  his 
repose. 

It's  a  considerable  of  a  trial,  said  the  Clockmaker,  to  sit 
still  and  listen  to  that  cussed  old  critter,  I  tell  you.  If  you 
hadn't  been  here  I'd  agiv'n  hirri  a  rael  good  quiltin'.  I'd 
atanned  his  jacket  for  him  ,*  I'd  alarned  him  to  carry  a  civil 
tongue  in  his  head,  the  nasty,  drunken,  onmannerly  good<for- 
ncthin'  beast ;  more  nor  once.  I  felt  iiy  fingers  itch  to  give 
him  a  sockdolager  under  t)ie  ear-;  but  he  aiirt  worth  mindin', 
I  guess.  Yes,  squire,  I  won't  deny  but  New  Orleens  is  a 
great  place,  a  wonderful  place ;  but  there  are  resources  here 
beyond  all  conception,  and  its  climate  is  as  pleasant  as  any 
we  have,  and  a  plaguy  sight  more  healthy.  I  doiiSi.  know 
what  mere  you'd  ask,  almost  an  island  indented  every  tvhere 
with  harbours,  surrounded  with  fisheries.  The  key  of  the  St. 
Lawrence,  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  and  the  West  Indgies ; — prime 
land  above,  one  vast  mineral  bed  beneath,  and  a  climate  over 
all  temperate,  pleasant  and  healthy.  If  that  ain't  enough  for 
one  place,  it's  a  pity — that's  all.   ^      ;^     «  =  >,^s 


,^;^ 


#4-  *  -.    , 
^4v  '• ",  'i 


CHAPTER  XX. 
THE  WRONG  ROOM. 


4 


Tv.*  •  ft 


V  The  next  morning,  the  rain  poured  down  in  torrents,  and 
it  was  ten  o'clock  before  we  were  able  to  resume  our  journey. 
I  am  glad,  said  Mr.  Slick,  that  cussed  cxitter  ^hat  schoolmaster 
hasn't  yet  woke  up.  I'm  most  afeerd  if  he  had  turned  out 
afore  we  started,  I  should  have  quilted  him,  for  that  talk  of 
his  last  night  sticks  in  my  crop  considerable  hard.  It  ain't 
over  easy  to  digest,  I  tell  you ;  for  nothin'  a'most  raises  my 
dander  so  much  as  to  hear  a  benighted,  ignorant,  and  enslaved 
foreigner,  belittle  our  free  and  enlightened  citizens.  But,  see^ 
there,  squire,  said  he,  that's  the  first  Indgian  campment  we've 


'fti^ 


'/■■«■ 


>  prepare 
lie  placed 
r  steadily 
—I'll  tdl 
effort  and 
r,  and  we 
him  to  his 

:er,  to  sit 
.  If  you 
Itin'.  rd 
rry  a  civil 

good-for- 
ih  to  give 
\i  mindin*, 
\een»  is  a 
irces  here 
nt  as  any 
m}$.  know 
^ery  «vhere 

of  the  St. 
5 ; — prime 
rnate  over 
nough  (or 


rents,  and 
r  journey, 
loolmaster 
turned  out 
lat  talk  of 
It  sun't 
raises  my 
cl  enslaved 
But,  secf 
lent  we've 


T! 


TBI:   WRONO  ROOM. 


M 


fell  in  with  on  our  journey.  Happy  fellers,  them  Indgians, 
ben't  they  t — they  have  no  wants  and  no  cares  but  food  and 
cloathin',  and  fishin'  and  huntin'  sup{.ly  them  things  easy. 
That  tall  one  you  see  spearin'  fish  dc  ffit  in  that  are  creek 
there,  is  Peter  Paul,  a  most  aplaguy  cute  chap.  I  mind  the 
last  time  I  was  to  Lunenburg,  I  seed  him  to  the  magistrate's, 
John  Robar's :  he  laid  down  the  law  to  the  justice  better  than 
are  a  lawyer  I  have  met  with  in  the  province  yet ;  he  talked 
as  clever  a'most  as  Mr.  Clay.  I'll  tell  you  what  it  was  :— 
Peter  Paul  had  made  his  wigwam  one  winter  near  a  brook  on 
the  farm  of  James  M'Nutt,  and  employed  his  time  in  cooper- 
ing, and  used  M'Nutt's  timber  when  he  wanted  any.  Well, 
M  Nutt  threatened  to  send  him  to  jail  if  he  didn't  move  away, 
and  Paul  caine  to  Robar,  to  ax  him  whether  it  could  be  done. 
Says  he,  squire, — M'Nutt  he  came  to  me,  and  says  he,  Peter, 
what  adevil  you  do  here,  d — n  you  1  I  say,  I  meke  'em 
bucket,  make  em  tub,  may  be  basket,  or  ax  handle,  to  buy 
me  some  blanket  and  powder  and  shot  with — ^you  no  want 
some  ?  Well,  he  say,  this  my  land,  Peter,  and  my  wood ;  I 
bought  'em  and  pay  money  for  'em ;  I  won't  let  you  stay  here 
and  cut  my  wood ;  if  you  cut  anoder  stick,  I  send  you  to  jail. 
Then  I  tell  him  1  see  what  governor  say  to  that :  what  you 
plant,  that  yours ;  whac  you  sow,  that  yours  too ;  but  you  no 
plant  'em  woods ;  God — he  plant  'em  dat ;  he  make  'em  river, 
too,  lOr  all  mens,  white  man  and  Indgian  man — all  same. 
God — he  no  give  'em  river  to  one  man, — he  make  him  run 
thro'  all  the  woods.  When  you  drink,  he  run  on  and  I  drink, 
and  then  when  all  drink  he  run  on  to  de  sea.  He  no  stand 
still — you  no  catch  him — you  no  have  him.  If  I  cut  down 
your  apple*tree,  then  send  me  to  jail,  cause  you  plant  'em ; 
but  if  I  cut  down  ash-tree,  oak-tree,  or  pine-tree  in  woods,  I 
say  it's  mine.  If  I  cut  'em  first — for  tree  in  big  woods  like 
river — first  cut  him,  first  have  him.  If  God  give  'em  all  to 
you,  where  is  your  writin',  or  bring  somebody  say  he  hear  him 
say  so,  then  I  stop.  I  never  kill  your  hog,  and  say  I  thought 
him  one  bear,  nor  your  hen,  and  say  him  one  partridge ;  but 
you  go  kill  my  stock,  my  cariboo,  and  my  moose.  I  never 
frighten  away  your  sheep  :  but  you  go  chop  wood,  and  make 
one  d — n  noise  and  frighten  away  l^•*'^r :  so  when  I  go  to  my 
trap  I  no  find  him  there,  and  I  lose  him,  and  de  skin  and  de 
meat  too.  No  two  laws  for  you  and  me,  but  all  same.  You 
know  Jefiery — him  bi^  man  to  Halifax  ? — well,  him  very  good 
14* 


■,\-l,:M'.    Tt,. 


II 


1 


! 


-  ■ 


( 


t\ 


102 


THB   CLOCKMAKER. 


maii^s  that ;  very  kind  to  poor  Indgian  (when  that  man  go  to 
heaven,  Grod  will  give  him  plenty  backy  to  smoke,  for  that  I 
know.) — Well,  he  say,  Peter  Paul,  when  you  want  ash-tree* 
you  go  cut  'em  down  on  my  land  when  you  like ;  I  give  you 
leave.  He  very  good  man  dat,  but  God  give  'em  albre  Jefiery 
was  born.  And  by  and  by,  I  say,  M'Nutt,  you  have  'em  all. 
Indgian  all  die  soon ;  no  more  wood  lefl — no  more  hunt  left ; 
he  starve,  and  then  you  take  all.  Till  then  I  take  'em  wood 
that  God  plant  for  us,  where  I  find  'em,  and  no  thanks  to  you. 
It  would  puzzle  a  Philadelphia  lawer  to  answer  that — I  guess, 
said  Mr.  Slick.  That  feller  cyphered  that  out  of  human 
uatur', — the  best  book  a  man  can  study  arter  all,  and  the  only 
true  one ; — there's  no  two  ways  about  it — there's  never  no 
mistake  there.  Queer  critter,  that  Peter ;  he  has  an  answer 
for  every  one  ;  nothin'  ever  da'nts  or  poses  him ;  but  here  we 
are  at  the  eend  of  our  journey,  and  I  must  say,  I  am  sorry  for 
it,  too,  for  though  it's  been  a  considerable  of  a  long  one,'  it's 
been  a  very  pleapant  one. 


¥^^ 


,.«-ft  .,•); 


A'Jii. 


f'^^ 


When  we  returned  to  Halifax  we  drove  to  Mrs.  Spioer's 
boarding-houife,  where  I  had  bespoken  lodgings  previously  to 
my  departure  from  town.  While  the  servants  were  p/eparing 
my  room  we  were  shown  into  the  parlour  of  Mrs.  Spicer. 
She  was  young,  pretty,  anu  a  widow.  She  had  but  one  child, 
a  daughter  of  six  years  of  age,  which,  like  all  only  children, 
was  petted  and  spoiled.  She  was  first  shy,  then  familiar,  and 
ended  by  being  troublesome  and  rude.  She  amused  her 
mother  by  imitating  Mr.  Slick's  pronunciation,  and  herself 
by  using  his  hat  for  a  foot-ball. 

Entertainin'  that,  ain't  it?  said  the  Clockmaker,  as  we 
entered  our  own  apartments.  The  worst  of  women  is,  said 
he,  they  are  for  everlastin'ly  ateasin'  folks  with  their  children, 
and  take  more  pains  to  spoil  'em  and  make  'em  disagreeable 
than  anything  else.  Who  the  plague  wants  to  hear  'em  repeat 
a  yard  o'  poetry  like  that  are  little  sarpen*  ? — I  am  sure  I 
don't.  The  lion.  Eli  Wad  was  right,  when  iio  said  the  ways 
o'  womenkind  are  wonderful.  I've  been  afeerd  to  venture  on 
matrimony  myself,  and  I  don't  altogether  think  I  shall  speki- 
late  in  that  line  for  one  while.  It  don't  gist  suit  a  rovin'  man 
like  me.  It's  a  considerable  of  a  tie,  and  then  it  ain't  like  a 
horse  deal,  where,  if  you  don't  like  the  beast,  you  can  put  it 
off  in  a  raffle,  or  a  trade,  or  swop  and  suit  yourself  better ; 
but  you  must  make  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain,  and  put  up  with 


.„  \ 


'.r^' 


man  go  to 
for  that  I 
t  ash-treei 
[  give  you 
bre  Jeffery 
ire  'em  all. 
hunt  left ; 
'em  wood 
ks  to  you. 
— I  guess, 
of  human 
d  the  only 
never  no 
m  answer 
ut  here  we 
1  sorry  for 
g  one,  it*8 

I.  Spicer'tt 
sviously  to 
p^reparing 
•s.  Spicer. 
one  child, 
children, 
liliar,  and 
lused  her 
id  herself 

r,  as  we 
en  is,  said 

children, 
jagreeable 
em  repeat 
m  sure  I 

the  ways 
enture  on 
lall  speki- 
ovin'  man 
in't  like  a 
can  put  it 
If  better ; 
it  up  with 


t 


THE  WROirO  ROOK. 


le^ 


h.  it  ain*t  often  you  meet  a  critter  of  the  right  mettle; 
spirited,  yet  gentle ;  easy  on  the  bit,  sure-footed  and  spry  ;  no 
Y  tin',  or  kickin*,  or  sulkin',  or  racin*  off*,  or  refusin'  to  go  or 
runnin'  back,  and  then  clean-limbed  and  good  carriage.  It's 
about  the  difficult^t  piece  of  business  I  know  on. 

Our  great  cities  are  most  the  only  places  in  our  Union 
where  a  man  may  marry  with  comfort,  rael  right  down  genu- 
ine comfort  and  no  drawback.  No  farnishin'  a  house ;  and 
if  you  go  for  to  please  a  woman  in  that  line,  there's  no  eend 
o'  the  expense  they'll  go  to,  and  no  trouble  about  helps ;  a 
considerable  of  a  plague  them  in  the  States,  you  may  depend; 
then  you  got  nothin'  to  provide,  and  nothin'  to  see  arter,  and 
it  ain't  so  plaguy  lonely  as  a  private  house  neither.  The 
ladies,  too,  have  nothin'  to  do  all  day  but  dress  themselves, 
gossip,  walk  out,  or  go  ashoppin',  or  receive  visits  to  home. 
They  have  a'most  a  grand  time  of  it,  you  may  depend.  If 
there  be  any  children,  why,  they  car  be  sent  up  garret  with 
the  helps,  out  o^  the  way  and  out  o'  hearin'  till  they  are  big 
enough  to  go  to  school.  They  ain't  half  the  plague  they  be  in 
a  private  house.  But  one  o'  the  best  things  about  it  is,  a  man 
needn't  stay  to  home  to  entertain  his  wife  aevenings,  for  she 
can  find  company  enough  in  the  public  rooms,  if  she  has  a 
mind  to,  and  he  can  go  to  the  political  clubs  and  coffee-houses, 
and  see  arter  politics,  and  enquire  how  the  nation's  agoin'  on, 
and  watch  over  the  doin's  of  Congress.  It  takes  a  great  deal 
of  time  that,  and  a  man  can't  discharge  his  duties  right  to 
the  State  or  the  Union  either,  if  he  is  for  everlastin'ly  tied  to 
his  wife's  apron-strings.  You  may  talk  about  the  domestic 
hearth,  and  the  pleasures  of  home,  and  the  family  circle,  and 
all  that  sort  o'  thing,  squire:  it  sounds  very  clever,  and 
reads  dreadful  pretty  ;  but  what  does  it  eend  in  at  last  ?  why, 
a  scoldin'  wife  with  her  shoes  down  to  heel,  a-see-sawin'  in  a 
rocking  chair ;  her  hair  either  not  done  up  at  all,  or  all  stuck 
chock  full  of  paper  and  pins,  like  porcupine  quills  ;  a  smoky 
chimbly  aputtin'  of  your  eyes  out ;  cryin'  children  ascreamin' 
of  your  ears  out ;  extravagant,  wasteful  helps,  a-emptying  of 
your  pockets  out,  and  the  whole  thing  awearin'  of  your 
patience  out.  No,  there's  nothin'  like  a  great  boardin'  house, 
for  married  folks ;  it  don't  cost  nothin'  like  keepin'  house,  and 
there's  plenty  a'  company  all  the  time,  and  the  women  folks 
never  feel  lonely  like,  when  their  husbands  are  not  to  home. 
The  only  thing  is  to  lam  the  geography  of  the  house  )vell, 


■A:    ■. 


I 


s 


164 


THB   CLOCKMAKER. 


and  know  their  own  number.  If  they  don't  do  that,  they  may 
get  into  a  most  adeuced  of  a  scrape,  that  it  ain't  so  easy  to 
back  out  of.  I  recollect  a  most  acurious  accident  that  hap- 
pened that  way  once,  agettin*  into  the  wrong  room. 

I  had  gone  down  to  Boston  to  keep  4th  of  July,  our  great 
Annivarsary*day.  A  great  day  that,  squire ;  a  great  national 
festival ;  a  splendid  spectacle ;  fiAeen  millions  offree  men  and 
three  million  of  slaves  acelebratin'  the  birth-day  of  liberty ; 
rejoicin'  in  their  strength,  their  freedom  and  enlightenment. 
Perhaps  the  sun  never  shone  on  such  a  sight  afore,  nor  the 
moon,  nor  the  stars,  for  their  planetary  system  ain't  more 
perfect  than  our  political  system.  The  sun  typifies  our  splen- 
dour ;  the  moon  in  its  changes  figures  our  rotation  of  office, 
and  eclipses  of  Presidents, — and  the  stars  are  emblems  of  our 
states,  as  painted  on  our  flags.  If  the  British  don't  catch  it 
that  day,  it's  a  pity.  All  over  our  Union,  in  every  town-«nd 
village,  there  are  orations  made,  gist  about  as  beautiful  pieces 
of  workmanship,  and  as  nicely  dove-tailed  and  mortised,  and  as 
prettily  put  together  as  well  can  be,  and  the  English  catch  it 
everywhere.  All  our  battles  are  fought  over  ag'in,  and  you  can 
e'en  a'most  see  the  British  aflvin'  afore  them  like  the  wind,  full 

• 

split,  or  layin'  down  their  arms  as  huruule  as  you  please,  or 
marchin'offas  prisoners  tied  two  and  two,  like  runaway  nig- 
gers, as  plain  as  if  you  was  kt  the  engagements,  and  Washing- 
ton on  his  great  big  war-horse  aridin'  over  them,  and  our  froo 
and  enlightened  citizens  askiverin'  of  them ;  or  the  proud  im- 
pudent officers  akneelin'  down  to  him,  givin'  up  their  swords, 
and  abeggin'  for  dear  life  for  quarter.  Then  you  think  you 
can  e'en  a'most  see  that  infernal  spy  Andre  nabbed  and 
sarched,  and  the  scorn  that  sot  on  the  brows  of  our  heroes  as 
they  threw  into  the  dirt  the  money  he  offered  to  be  released, 
and  heerd  him  beg  like  an  Indgian  to  be  shot  like  a  gentle- 
man, and  not  hanged  like  a  thief,  and  Washington's  noble  and 
magnanimous  answer, — "  I  guess  they'll  think  we  are  ufeord 
if  we  don't," — so  simple,  so  sublime.  The  hammerin'  of  the 
carpenters  seems  to  strike  your  ears  as  they  erect  the  gallus  ; 
and  then  his  struggles,  like  a  dog  tucked  up  for  sheep-stealin', 
are  as  nateral  as  life.  I  must  say  I  do  like  to  hear  them  ora- 
tions,— to  hear  of  the  deeds  of  our  heroes  by  land  and  by  sea. 
It's  a  bright  page  of  history  that.  It  exasperates  the  young — 
it  makes  tlieir  blood  boil  at  the  wrongs  of  their  forefathers ;  it 
makes  them  clean  their  rifles,  and  run  their  bullets.    It  pi'e- 


THB   WRONG   ROOM. 


165 


they  may 
so  easy  (o 
t  that  hap- 

our  great 
at  national 
e  men  and 
of  liberty ; 
;htenment. 
•e,  nor  the 
ain't  more 

our  splen- 
1  of  office, 
ems  of  our 
I't  catch  it 

town*«n(l 
tiful  pieces 
3ed,  and  as 
h  catch  it 
id  you  can 
5  wind,  full 

please,  or 
laway  nig- 
Washing- 
id  our  froo 
proud  im- 
lir  swords, 
think  you 
bbed  and 
heroes  as 
i  released, 

a  gentle- 
noble  and 
ire  ufecrd 
•in'  of  the 
)e  gall  us ; 
p-stealin', 
them  ora- 
id  by  sea. 
young — 
athers;  it 
It  pre- 


pares them  for  that  great  day,  that  comin'  day,  that  no  distant 
day  neither,  that  must  come  and  will  come,  and  can't  help  a 
comiji',  when  Britain  will  be  a  colony  to  our  great  nation,  and 
when  her  colonies  will  be  states  in  our  Union. 

Many's  the  disputes,  and  pretty  hot  disputes  too,  I've  had 
with  minister  about  these  orations.  He  never  would  go  near 
on  'em  ;  he  said  they  were  in  bad  taste — (a  great  phrase  of 
his'n  that,  poor  dear  good  old  man ;  I  believe  his  heart  yarns 
arter  old  times,  and  I  must  think  sometimes  he  ought  to  have 
joined  the  refugees,) — bad  taste,  Sam.  It  smells  o'  braggin', 
it's  ongentlemany ;  and  what's  worse — it's  onchristian. 

But  ministers  don't  know  much  of  this  world ; — they  may 
know  the  road  to  the  next ;  but  they  don't  know  the  cross- 
roads  and  by-paths  of  this  one — that's  a  fact.  But  I  was 
a^oin'  to  tell  you  what  happened  that  day — I  was  stayin'  to 
Gineral  Peep's  boardin'  house  to  Boston,  to  enjoy,  as  I  was 
asayin',  the  anniversary.  There  was  an  amazin'  crowd  of 
folks  there ;  the  house  was  chock  full  of  strangers.  Well, 
there  was  a  gentleman  and  a  lady,  one  Major  Ebenezer  Sproul 
and  his  wife,  aboardin'  there,  that  had  one  chile! ,  the  most 
cryenest  critter  I  ever  seed ;  it  boohood  all  night  a'nnost,  a*^d 
the  boarders  said  it  must  be  sent  up  to  the  garret  to  the  helps, 
for  no  soul  could  sleep  a'most  for  it.  Well,  most  every  night 
Mrs.  Sproul  had  to  go  up  there  to  quiet  the  little  varmint,—- 
for  it  wouldn't  give  over  yellin'  for  no  one  but  her.  That 
night,  in  partikelar,  the  critter  screeched  and  screamed  like 
Old  Scratch ;  and  at  last  Mrs.  Sproul  slipped  on  her  dressin' 
gownd,  and  went  up  stairs  to  it, — and  left  her  door  ajar,  so  as 
not  to  disturb  her  husband  acomin'  back ;  and  when  she  re- 
turned, she  pushed  the  door  open  soilly,  and  shot  it  to,  and 
§ot  into  bed.  He's  asleep,  now,  says  she ;  I  hope  he  won't 
isturb  me  ag'in.  No,  I  ain't  asleep,  mynheer  stranger,  says 
old  Zwicker,  a  Dutcli  merchant  from  Albany,  (for  she  had  got 
into  the  wrong  room,  and  got  in  his  bed  by  mistake,)  nor  I 
don't  dank  vou,  nor  Gineral  Beep  needer,  for  puddin'  you  into 
my  bed  mia  me,  widout  my  leave  nor  lichense,  nor  abbroba- 
tion^  needer.  I  liksh  your  place  more  better  as  your  com- 
pany? Oh,  I  got  no  i^mblet  I  Het  is  jammer,  it  is  a  pity  I 
Oh  f  dear,  if  she  didn't  let  so,  it's  a  pity ;  she  kicked  and 
screamed,  and  carried  on  like  a  ravin'  distracted  bed-bug. 
Tousand  tey  vela,  said  he  what  ails  te  man  1  I  Delieve  he  is 
pewitched.    Murder !  murder!  saia  sihe,  ana  she  cried  ow  it 


i 


Hi 


166 


THE  CLOCKMAKER. 


<>  I 


the  Tery  tip  eend  of  her  voice,  murder!  murder!  Well, 
Zwicker,  ha  jumped  out  o*  bed  in  an  all-fired  hurry,  most 
properly  frightened,  you  may  depend  ;  and  seezin*  her  dress* 
m'  gownd,  mstead  of  his  trousers,  he  put  his  legs  into  the 
arms  of  it,  and  was  arunnin'  out  of  the  room  aholdin'  up  of 
the  skirts  with  his  hands,  as  I  came  in  with  the  candle.  De 
ferry  teyvil  hisself  is  in  te  man,  and  in  de  trousher  too,  said 
he ;  for  I  peiieve  te  coat  has  grow'd  to  it  in  te  night,  it  is  so 
tam  long.  Oh,  tear !  what  a  pity.  Stop,  says  I,  Mister 
Zwicker,  and  I  pulled  him  back  by  the  gownd  (I  thought  I 
should  adied  larfin'  to  see  him  in  his  red  night-cap,  his  eyes 
startin'  out  o'  his  head,  and  those  short-legged  trousers  on, 
for  the  sleeves  of  the  dressin'  gownd  didn't  come  further  than 
his  knees,  with  a  great  long  tail  to  'em.)  Stop,  says  I,  and 
tell  us  what  all  this  everlastin'  hubbub  is  about :  who's  dead 
and  what's  to  pay  now  ? 

All  this  time  Mirs.  Sproul  lay  curled  up  like  a  cat,  covered 
all  over  in  the  bed  clothes,  ayellin'  and  ascreamin'  like  mad ; 
'most  all  the  houi^e  was  gathered  there,  some  ondressed,  and 
some  half-dressed — some  had  sticks  and  pokers,  and  some 
had  swords.  Hullo !  says  I,  who  on  airth  is  makin'  all  this 
touss?  Goten  Hymel,  said  he,  old  Saydon  himself,  I  do 
pelieve ;  he  came  tru  de  door  and  jumped  right  into  ped,  and 
yelled  so  loud  in  mine  ear  as  to  deefen  my  head  a'most :  pull 
him  out  by  de  cloven  foot,  and  kill  him,  tam  him !  I  had  no 
gimblet  no  more,  and  he  know'd  it,  and  dat  is  te  cause,  and 
nothin'  else.  Well,  the  folks  got  hold  of  the  clothes,  and 
pulled  and  hauled  away  till  her  head-showed  above  the  sheet. 
Dear,  dear,  said  Major  Ebenezer  Sproul ; — If  it  ain't  Mrs. 
Sproul,  my  wife,  as  I  am  alive!  Why,  Mary  dear,  what 
brought  you  here  ? — what  on  airth  are  you  adoin'  of  in  Mr. 
Zwicker's  room  here?  I  take  my  oat,  she  prought  herself 
here,  said  Zwicker,  and  peg  she  take  herself  away  ag'in  so 
fast  as  she  came,  and  more  faster  too.  What  will  Vrow 
Zwicker  say  to  this  woman's  tale  1 — was  te  likeesh  ever  heerd 
aibre  ?  Tear,  tear,  but  'tis  too  pad !  Well,  well,  says  tho 
folks,  who'd  athought  it? — such  a  steady  old  gentleman  as 
Mr.  Zwicker, — and  young  Marm  Sproul,  says  they, — only 
think  of  her  I — ain't  it  horrid  ?  The  hussy  !  says  the  women 
house-helps :  she's  nicely  caught,  ain't  she  ?  She's  no  great 
things  any  how  to  take  up  with  that  nasty  smoky  old  Dutch- 
man :  it  sar^'es  her  right, — it  does,  the  good-for-nothin'  jade ! 


I 
I 


TRR  WROKO  R«X>II. 


187 


rl  Well, 
rry,  most 
her  dresc* 
9  into  the 
din'  up  of 
ndle.  De 
r  too,  said 
ht,  it  is  so 
I,  Mister 
thought  I 
)  his  eyes 
msers  on, 
rther  than 
iys  I,  and 
^ho's  dead 

t,  covered 
like  mad ; 
essed,  and 
and  some 
n'  all  this 
iself,  I  do 
>  ped,  and 
nost :  pull 

I  had  no 
iause,  and 
tthes,  and 
the  sheet, 
lin't  Mrs. 
sar,  what 
of  in  Mr. 
jt  herself 

ag'in  so 
vill  Vrow 
ver  heerd 

says  the 
leman  as 
ly, — only 
le  women 

no  great 

1  Dutch- 
lin'  jade  I 


I  wouldn't  Ahed  it  hap^pen,  says  the  major,  .or  fifty  doUart, 
I  vow;  and  he'  walked  up  and  down,  and  wian^"  his  hands, 
and  looked  streaked  enough,  you  may  depend; — ^no,  nor 
I  don't  know,  said  he,  as  I  would  for  a  hundred  dollars  a'most. 
Have  what  happened,  says  Zwicker;  upon  my  vort  and 
honour  and  sole,  nothin'  happened,  only  I  had  no  gimblet. 
Het  is  jammer;  it  is  a  pity.  I  went  to  see  the  baby,  said 
Mrs.  Sproul,— asobbin'  ready  to  kill  herself,  poor  thing!— 

and Well,  I  don't  want,  nor  have  occasion,  nor  require  a 

nurse,  said  Zwicker. — And  I  mistook  the  room,  said  she,  and 
come  here  athinkin'  it  was  ourn.  Couldn't  pe  possible,  said 
he,  to  take  me  for  te  papy,  dat  has  papys  hisself, — but  it  was 
to  ruin  my  character,  and  name,  and  reputation.  Oh,  Goten 
Hymel !  what  will  Vrou  Zwicker  say  to  dis  woomaii's  tale  ? 
but  then  she  knowd  I  had  no  gimblet,  she  did.  Folks 
snickered  and  larfed  a  good  deal,  I  tell  you ;  but  they  soon 
cleared  out  and  went  to  bad  ag'in.  The  story  ran  all  over 
Boston  like  wild  fire ;  nothin'  else  a'most  was  talked  of;  and 
like  most  stories,  it  grew  worse  and  worse  every  day.  Zwicker 
returned  next  mornin'  to  Albany,  and  has  never  been  to 
Boston  since ;  and  the  Sprouls  kept  close  for  some  time,  and 
then  moved  away  to  the  western  tenitory.  I  actilly  believe 
they  changed  their  name,  for  I  never  heerd  tell  of  any  one>^ 
that  ever  seed  them  since. 

Mr.  Slick,  says  Zwicker,  the  mornin'  he  started,  I  have  one 
leetle  gimblet ;  I  always  travel  with  my  leetle  gimblet ;  take 
it  mid  me  wherever  I  go ;  and  when  I  goes  to  ped,  I  takes  my 
leetle  gimblet  out  and  bores  wid  it  over  de  latch  of  de  toor, 
and  dat  fastens  it,  and  keeps  out  de  tief  aid  de  villain  and  ds 
womans.  I  left  it  to  home  dat  time  mid  ihe  old  vrou,  and  it 
was  all  because  I  had  no  gimblet,  de  row  and  te  noise  and  te 
rumpush  wash  made.  Tam  it  I  said  he,  Mr.  Slick,  'tis  no  use 
talkin',  but  tere  is  always  de  teyvil  to  pay  when  there  is  a 
woman  and  no  gimbxet. 

Yes,  said  the  Clockmaker,  if  they  don't  mind  the  number 
of  the  room,  they'd  better  stay  away, — but  a  little  attention 
that  way  cures  all.  We  are  all  in  a  hurry  in  the  States ;  we 
eat  in  a  hurry,  drink  in  a  hurry,  and  sleep  in  a  hurry.  We 
all  go  ahead  so  fast  it  keeps  one  full  spring  to  keep  up  with 
others  ;  and  one  must  go  it  hot  foot,  if  he  nants  to  pass  his 
neighbours.  Now,  it  is  a  great  comfort  to  have  your  dinner 
to  the  minute,  as  you  do  at  a  boardin'-house,  when  you  are  In 


■  .*S 


/  i 


168 


THE  OLOCKMAKER. 


f    1 


'A  hcrry-~only  you  must  look  out  sharp  arter  the  dishes,  or 
you  won't  get  nothin*.  Things  vanish  like  wink.  I  recoUoot 
once  when  quails  first  came  in  that  searon ;  there  was  aa  old 
chap  at  beep's  boardin*-house,  that  used  to  take  the  whole 
dish  of  *em,  empty  it  on  his  plate,  f*xid  gobble  'em  up  like  a 
turk'»ycock, — no  one  else  e  *■  gP*  "^e.  We  wrre  all  r  good 
deti^  .yled  at  it,  seei  •"  .jat  L  '^ -i  pt  y  no  moi-e  ibr  hia  din- 
ner than  us,  so  I  nicknamed  km  ""  •  ^d  Quail,"  and  it  cured 
him ;  he  always  left  half  urtei  a,  iv*  %  scramb.  No  sys- 
tem is  quite  perfect,  squire  ;  acodents  <;  - 1  happen  in  the  best 
i'egulated  places,  like  that  of  Marm  SprouPs  and  Old  Quail's ; 
but  still  there  is  nothin'  arter  all  like  a  boardin'-house»— the 
only  thing  is,  keep  out  of  the  wrong  room. 


!,»■■.*'•.*■ 


•<>.. 


Y'r    CHAPTER  XXI. 

"■'^  nNDING  A  MARE'S  NEST. 


y ''■■/' 

-.  : 

■    -  'xt  •*.; 

I-. 

V     j...    '      r'.lfi!. 

;■.  r.'v  ■'- 

.  i    . 

^'.■:    . 

«•■    ■  ''<•':;  1-  ''j^U'''- 

r  Halifax,  like  London,  has  its  tower  also,  but  there  is  this 
remarkable  difierence  between  these  two  national  structures, 
that  the  one  is  designed  for  the  <2efenders  of  the  country,  and 
the  other  for  its  q^enders  ;  and  that  the  former  is  as  difficult 
to  be  broken  into  as  the  latter  (notwithstanding  all  the  inge- 
nious devices  of  successive  generations  from  the  days  of 
Julius  Ceesar  to  the  time  of  the  schoolmaster)  is  to  be  broken 
out  of.  A  critical  eye  might  perhaps  detect  some  other, 
though  lesser,  points  of  distinction.  This  cis- Atlantic  mar- 
tello  tower  has  a  more  aristocratic  and  exclusive  air  than  its 
city  brother,  and  its  portals  are  open  to  none  but  those  who 
are  attired  in  the  uniform  of  the  guard,  or  that  of  the  royal 
staff;  while  the  other  receives  the  lowest,  and  most  depraved, 
and  vulgar  of  mankind.  It  is  true  it  has  not  the  lionSi  &nd 
other  adventitious  attractions  of  the  elder  one  ;  but  the  origi- 
nal and  noble  park  in  which  it  stands  is  plentifully  stocked 
with  carribooaj  while  the  Aorn-work  of  the  latter  is  at  least 
et|ual  to  that  of  its  ancient  rival ;  and  although  it  cannot 
ej  hibit  a  display  of  the  armour  of  the  country^  its  very  exis- 
tence there  is  conclusive  evidence  of  the  amor  patria.  It 
stands  on  an  eminence  that  protects  the  harbour  of  Halifax, 


A«  ;, 


riNDINO    A   U.VRCS   Nk.1T. 


169 


dishes,  or 
I  recolloot 
nras  aa  old 
the  whole 
up  like  a 
ail  r  good 
or  hia  din- 
id  it  cured 
No  sys- 
in  the  best 
Id  Quail's; 
ouse, — ^the 

r  ■■"  'y 
>J  '\t    ■'•*.'  , 

•:.  --jfi.-' 

>    ' ,  .  .     ■'i'' 

I    J:  ■!    '■.   >  .f^,j«.  • 
V  J  '•%■*.   < 

lere  is  this 
9tiucture9, 
intry,  and 
as  difficult 

the  inge- 
days  of 
be  broken 
me  other, 
intic  mar- 
ir  than  its 
those  who 

the  royal 

depraved, 
liona^  and 

the  origi- 
ly  stocked 
is  at  least 

it  cannot 
very  exis- 
atria.  It 
f  Halifax, 


and  commaDds  t  ,at  of  the  Nortn-West  Arm,  and  '^  situated 
at  the  terminf"'  on  of  a  ;ashionable  promenado,  which  is 
skirted  on  one  de  b^  i  thick  shrubbery,, and  on  the  other  by 
the  ./aters  of  ne  harbour;"  the  former  bemg  the  resort  of 
tl-  jiitj  of  l>oth  soxes  who  del!jht  .n  the  impervious  shade  of 
the  spruce,  and  the  latter  of  ihose  who  prefer  swimming,  and 
other  aquatic  exercises.  \V*h  these  attractions  to  the  lovers 
of  nature,  and  a  pure  air,  it  is  thronged  at  all  hours,  but  more 
especially  at  day-dawn,  by  the  valetudinarian,  the  aged,  and 
infirm,  and  at  the  witching  hour  of  moonlight  by  those  who 
are  young  enough  to  defy  the  dew  and  damp  air  of  night. 

To  the  latter  class  I  have  long  since  ceased  to  belong.  Old, 
corpulent,  and  rheumatic,  I  am  compelled  to  be  careful  of  a 
body  that  is  not  worth  the  trouble  that  it  gives  me.  I  no  lon- 
ger indulge  in  the  dreary  visions  of^the  second  nap,  for,  alas ! 
non  sum  qualis  erain.  I  rise  early,  and  take  my  constitutional 
walk  to  the  t  .wer.  I  had  not  proceeded  more  than  half-way 
this  morning  before  I  met  the  Clockmaker  returning  t^town. 

Mornin',  squire,  said  he ;  I  suppose  you  didn't  hear  the 
news,  did  you  1  the  British  packet's  in.  Which  packet  ?  said 
I ;  for  there  are  two  due,  and  great  apprehensions  are  enter- 
tained that  one  of  them  is  lost.  More  promotion,  then,  said 
he,  for  them  navals  that's  lefl ;  it's  an  ill  wind  that  blows 
nobody  any  good.  Why !  said  I,  Mr.  Slick,  how  can  you 
talk  so  unfeelingly  of  such  an  awful  catstrophe  ?  Only  think 
of  the  misery  entailed  by  such  an  event  upon  Falmouth,  where 
most  of  the  officers  and  crew  have  left  destitute  and  distressed 
families.  Poor  creatures,  what  dreadful  tidings  await  them ! 
Well,  well,  said  he,  I  didn't  gist  altogether  mean  to  make  a 
joke  of  it  neither ;  but  your  folks  know  what  they  are  about ; 
them  coffin  ships  ain't  sent  out  for  nothin'.  Ten  of  them  gun- 
brigs  have  been  lost  already ;  and,  depend  on  it,  the  English 
have  their  reasons  for  it — there's  no  mistake  about  it :  con- 
siderable 'cute  chaps  them,  they  can  see  as  far  into  a  millstone 
as  them  that  picks  the  hole  in  it ;  if  they  throw  a  sprat  it's  to 
catch  a  mackerel,  or  my  name  is  not  Sam  Slick.  Reason,  I 
replied, — what  reason  can  there  be  for  consigning  so  many 
gallant  fellows  to  a  violent  death  and  a  watery  grave  ?    What 

could  justify  such  a ?   I'll  tell  you,  said  the  Clockmaker: 

it  keeps  the  natives  to  homo  by  frightenin'  'em  out  of  their 
seven  senses.     Now,  if  they  had  a  good  set  of  liners,  them 
blue-nose   tories   and   radicals    would    be    for   everlastingly 
15 


170 


THB  OLOCKMAKER. 


abotherin'  of  government  with  their  requests  and  complaints. 
Hungry  as  hawks  them  fellers,  theyM  fairly  eat  the  minister 
up  without  salt,  they  would.  It  compels  'em  to  stay  at  homtf, 
it  does.  Your  folks  desarve  credit  for  that  trick,  for  it  answers 
the  purpose  rael  complete.  Yes,  you  English  are  pretty  con- 
siderable tarnation  sharp.  You  warn't  born  yesterday,  I  tell 
you.  You  are  always  afindin*  out  some  mare's  nest  or 
another.  Didn't  you  send  out  water-casks  and  fiiterin'-stones 
last  war  to  the  fresh  water  lakes  to  Canada  ?  Didn't  you  send 
out  a  frigate  there  ready  built,  in  pieces  ready  numbered  and 
n:iarked,  to  put  together,  'cause  there's  no  timber  in  America, 
nor  carpenters  neither  ?  Didn't  ygu  order  the  Yankee  pris* 
oioers  to  be  kept  at  the  fortress  of  Louisburg,  which  was  so 
leveiicu  to  the  ground  iifly  years  before  that  folks  can  hardly 
tell  where  it  stood  ?  Han't  you  squandered  more  money  to 
Bermuda  than  would  make  a  military  road  from  Halifax  to 
Quebec,  make  the  Windsor  railroad,  and  complete  the  great 
canal?"  Han't  }f^ou  built  a  dockyard  there  that  rots  all  the 
CM)rdage  and  stores  as  fast  as  you  send  them  out  there  ?  and 
han't  you  to  send  these  things  every  year  to  sell  to  Halifax, 
"cause  there  ain't  folks  enough  to  Bermuda  to  make  an  auction  ? 
Don't  you  send  out  a  squadron  every  year  -of  seventy-fours, 
frigates,  and  sloops  of  war,  and  most  work  *em  to  death, 
sendin'  em'  to  Bermuda  to  winter  'cause  it's  warm,  and  to 
Halifax  to  summer,  'cause  its  cool ;  and  to  carry  freights  of 
doubloons  and  dollars  from  the  West  Indgies  to  England, 
'cause  it  pays  well ;  while  the  fisheries,  coastin'  trade,  and 
revenue  are  lefl  to  look  out  for  themselves  ?  Oh,  if  you  don't 
beat  all,  it's  a  pity  I 

Now,  what  in  natur'  is  the  use  of  them  are  great  seventy- 
fours  in  peace  time  in  that  station  ?  Half  the  sum  of  money 
one  of  them  are  everlastin'  almighty  monsters  cost  would  equip 
a  dozen  spaiikin'  cutters,  commanded  by  leflenants  in  the 
navy,  (and  this  I  will  say,  though  they  be  Britishers,  a  smarter 
set  o'  men  than  they  be  never  stept  in  shoe-leather,)  and  they'd 
soon  set  these  matters  right  in  two  twos.  Them  seventy-fours 
put  me  in  mind  o'  Black  Hawk,  the  great  Indgian  chief,  that 
was  to  Washin'ton  lately  ,*  he  had  an  alligator  tattooed  on  the 
back  part  of  one  thigh,  and  a  raccoon  on  t'other,  touched  off 
to  the  very  nines,  and  as  nateral  as  any  thing  you  ever  seed 
in  your  life ;  and  well  he  know'd  it  too,  for  he  was  as  proud 
of  it  as  any  thing.     Well,  the  president,  and  a  whole  rafl  of 


FINDING  A   mare's   NEST. 


171 


mplaints. 
I  minister 
at  homtf, 
I  answers 
etty  con- 
ay,  I  tell 
I  nest  or 
in'-stones 
you  send 
sred  and 
America, 
kee  pris- 
t  was  so 
n  hardly 
money  to 
alifax  to 
he  great 
s  all  the 
jre?  and 
Halifax, 
auction  ? 
ty-fours, 
o  death, 
,  and  to 
ights  of 
England, 
ide,  and 
ou  don*t 

seventy- 
'  money 
lid  equip 
in  the 
smarter 
id  they'd 
ty-fours 
ief,  that 
d  on  the 
hed  off 
^er  seed 
s  proud 
raft  of 


senators,  and  a  considerable  of  an  assortment  of  most  beauti- 
ful  ladies,  went  all  over  the  capitol  with  him,  showin'  him  th« 
great  buildin's,  and  public  halts,  and  curiosities,  patents,  pre* 
sents,  and  what  not ;  but  Black  Hawk,  he  took  no  notice  of 
nothin*  a'most  till  he  came  to  the  pictures  of  our  great  naval 
and  military  heroes,  and  splendid  national  victories  of  our  free 
and  en'ightene'd  citizens,  and  them  he  did  stare  at ;  they  posed 
him  considerable — that's  a  fact. 

Well,  warrior,  said  the  president,  arubbin'  of  ftis  hands, 
and  asmilin',  what  do  you  think  of  them?  Broder,  said 
Black  Hawk,  them  grand,  them  live,  and^breathe  and  speak— 
them  great  pictures  I  tell  you,  very  great  indeed,  but  I  got 
better  ones,  said  he,  anr!  he  turned  round,  and  stooped  down, 
and  drew  up  his  mantle  over  his  head.  Look  at  that  alligator, 
broder,  said  he,  and  he  struck  it  with  his  hand  till  he  inade  all 
ring  again ;  and  that  racoon  behind  there ;  bean't  they  splendid  ? 
Oh  I  if  there  warn't  a  shuut,  it's  a  pity !  The  men  haw-hawed 
right  out  like  thunder,  and  the  women  ran  off,  and  scream^ 
like  mad.  Did  you  ever !  said  they.  How  ondecent  i  ain't  it 
shocking  ?  and  then  they  screamed  out  ag'in  louder  than  afore. 
Oh  dear !  said  they,  if  that  nasty,  horrid  thing  ain't  in  all  the 
mirrors  in  the  room !  and  they  put  their  pretty  little  hands  up 
to  their  dear  little  eyes,  and  raced  right  out  into  the  street. 
The  president  he  stamped,  and  bit  his  lip,  and  looked  as  mad 
as  if  he  could  have  swallowed  a  wild  cat  alive.  Cuss  him ! 
said  he,  I've  half  a  mind  to  kick  him  into  the  Potomac,  the 
savage  brute!  I  shall  never  hear  the  last  of  this  joke. 
I  fairly  thought  I  should  have  split  to  see  the  conflustrigation 
it  put  'em  all  into.  Now,  that's  gist  the  way  with  your 
seventy-fours.  When  the  Blue-noses  grumble  that  we  Yan- 
kees smuggle  like  all  vengeance,  and  have  all  the  fisheries  on 
the  coast  to  ourselves,  you  send  'em  out  a  great  seventy-four 
with  a  painted  starn  for  'em  to  look  at,  and  it  is  gist  about  as 
much  use  as  the  tattooed  starn  of  Black  Hawk.  I  hope  I  may 
be  shot  if  it  ain't.     Well,  thon,  gist  see  how  you  •= 

True,  said  I,  glad  to  put  a  stop  to  the  enumeration  of  our 
blunders,  but  government  have  added  some  new  vessels  to 
the  packet  line  of  a  very  superior  description,  and  will  with- 
draw the  old  ones  as  soon  as  possible.  These  changes  are 
very  expensive,  and  cannot  be  effected  in  a  moment.  Yes, 
said  he,  so  I  have  heerd  tell ;  and  I  have  heerd,  too,  that  the 
new  ones  won't  lay  to,  and  the  old  ones  won't  scud ;  grand 


^ 


a;  : 


172 


THE    CLOCKMAKER. 


chance  in  a  gale  for  a  i'ellcr  that,  ain't  it  ?  One  tumbles  over 
in  tlie  trough  of  the  sou,  and  the  other  has  such  groat  sohd  bul- 
warks, if  she  ships  a  sco,  she  never  gets  rid  of  it  but  by  goin' 
down.  Oh,  you  British  are  up  to  every  thing !  it  wouldn  t  be 
easy  to  put  a  wrinkle  on  your  horns,  1  know.  They  will,  at 
least,  said  I,  with  more  pique  than  prudence,  lost  as  long  as  the 
colonies.  It  is  admitted  on  all  hands  now,  by  Tories,  Whigs, 
and  Radicals,  that  the  time  is  not  far  distant  when  the  pro- 
vinces  will  bo  old  enough  for  independcn.o,  and  strong  enough 
to  demand  it.  I  am  also  happy  to  say  that  there  is  every  dis- 
position to  yield  to  their  wishes  whenever  a  majority  shall 
concur  in  applying  for  a  separation.  It  is  very  questionable 
whether  the  expense  of  their  protection  is  not  greater  than 
any  advantage  we  derive  iVom  them. 

That,  said  the  Clockmaker,  is  what  I  cull,  now,  good  sound 
sense.  I  like  to  heor  vou  talk  that  way,  for  it  shows  you 
participate  in  the  enlightenment  of  the  age.  After  all  the 
expense  you  have  been  to  in  conquerin',  clearin',  settling  for- 
tifyin',  governin'l  and  protectin'  these  colonies,  from  the  timo 
they  were  little  miserable  spindlin'  seedlings  up  to  now,  when 
they  have  grow'd  to  be  considerable  stiff  and  strong,  and  of 
some  use,  to  give  'cm  up,  and  encourage  'em  to  ax  for  'man- 
cipation, is,  I  estimate,  the  part  of  wise  men.  Yes,  I  see  you 
are  wide  awake.  Let  'em  go.  They  are  no  use  to  you.  But, 
I  say,  squire — and  he  tapped  me  on  the  shoulder,  and  winked, 
— let  'em  look  out  the  next  mornin'  arter  they  are  free  for 
a  visit  from  us.  U  we  don't  put  'em  thro'  their  facin's  it's 
a  pity.  Tho'  they  are  no  good  to  you,  they  are  Wv  rth  a  J(jw's 
eye  to  us,  and  have  'em  we  will,  by  gum  !  ,  <s    jf 

You  put  me  in  mind  of  a  British  Parliament-man  that  was 
trnvellin'  in  the  States  once.  I  seed  him  in  a  steamboat  on 
the  Ohio,  (a'most  a  grand  river  that,  squire ;  if  you  were  to 
put  all  the  English  rivers  into  one  you  couldn't  make  its  ditto,) 
and  wo  went  the  matter  of  seven  hundred  miles  on  it  till  it 
jined  the  Mississippi.  As  soon  sis  we  turned  to  go  down  that 
river  he  stood,  and  stared,  and  scratched  his  head,  like 
bewildered.  Says  he,  this  is  very  strange — very  strange  in- 
deed, says  he.  What's  strange?  said  I;  but  he  went  on  with- 
out hcarin'.  It's  the  greatest  curiosity,  said  he,  I  ever  seed, 
a  nateral  phenomenon,  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  world ;  and 
he  jumped  right  up  and  down  like  a  ravin'  distracted  fool. 
Where  is  it,  said  he.     What  the  d — 1  has  become  of  it  ?     If 


^ 


f'li 


rilfDINO    A    MARE  8    If  EST. 


178 


nbles  over 
solid  bul* 
It  by  coia' 
ouldn  t  be 
ey  will,  at 
ong  as  the 
!s,  Whigs, 
[1  the  pro- 
tig  enough 
e\ory  dis- 
)rity  shall 
estionablo 
;ater  than 

ood  sound 
hows  you 
ir  all  tho 
ttlin',  for- 
I  the  time 
ow,  when 
g,  and  of 
for  'man- 
I  see  you 
'^ou.  But, 
d  winked, 
3  free  for 
icin's  it's 
h  a  Jqw's 

that  was 
niboat  on 
I  were  to 

its  ditto,) 
n  it  till  it 
lown  that 
lead,  like 
range  in- 
:  on  with- 
3ver  seed, 
^rld ;  and 
cted  fool, 
.fit?     If 


it's 


your  wit,  said  I,  you  aro  alookin*  for,  it's  gone  a  wool- 
gatherin'  more  nor  half  an  hour  ago.  What  on  airth  ails 
you,  says  I,  to  make  you  act  so  like  Old  Scratch  that  way  T 
Do,  for  goodness  sake,  look  here,  Mr.  Slick  I  said  he.  That 
immense  river,  the  Ohio,  that  we  have  been  sailin'  upon  to 
many  days,  where  is  it  ?  Where  is  it  1  said  I.  Why  it's  run 
into  the  Mississippi  here  to  be  sure ;  where  else  should  it  be  7 
or  did  you  think  it  was  like  a  snake  that  it  curled  its  head 
under  its  own  belly,  and  run  back  again?  But,  said  he,  the 
Mississippi  arn't  made  one  inch  higher  or  one  inch  wider  by 
it ;  it  don't  swell  it  one  mite  or  morsel ;  it's  marvellous,  ain  t 
it  I  Well,  gist  afore  that,  we  had  been  talking  about  the 
colonies ;  so,  says  I,  I  can  tell  you  a  more  marvellous  thing 
than  that  by  a  long  chalk. 

There  is  Upper  Canada,  and  Lower  Canada,  and  New 
Brunswick,  and  Nova  Scotia,  and  Cape  Breton,  and  Prince 
Edward's  Island,  and  Newfoundland, — they  all  belong  to  the 
English.  Well,  said  he,  I  know  that  as  well  as  you  do. 
Don't  be  so  plaguy  touchy  I  said  I,  but  hear  me  out.  They 
all  belong  to  the  English,  and  there's  no  two  ways  about  it ; 
it's  the  best  part  of  America,  too ;  better  land  and  better 
climate  than  ourn,  and  free  from  yaller  fevers,  and  agues,  and 
nigger  slaves,  and  hostile  Indgians,  and  Lynchers,  and  alliga* 
tors,  and  such  like  varmint,  and  all  the  trade  and  commerce 
of  them  colonies,  and  the  supply  of  'factured  goods  belong  to 
the  English  too,  and  yet  I  defy  any  livin'  soul  to  say  he  can 
see  that  it  swells  their  trade  to  be  one  inch  wider,  or  one  inch 
higher  ;  it's  gist  a  drop  in  the  bucket.  Well,  that  is  strange, 
said  he;  but  it  only  shows  the  magnitude  of  British  commerce. 
Yes,  says  I,  it  does ;  it  shows  another  thing  too.  What's 
that,  said  he.  Why,  says  I,  that  their  commerce  is  a  plaguy 
sight  deeper  than  the  shaller-pated  noodles  that  it  belongs  to. 
Do  you,  said  I,  jist  take  th  lead-line,  and  sound  the  river  jist 
below  where  the  Ohio  corner  into  it,  and  you  will  find  that, 
though  it  tante  broader  or  higher,  it's  an  everlastin'  sight 
deeper  than  it  is  above  the  jinin  place.  It  can't  be  otherwise 
in  natur'. 

Now,  turn  the  Ohio,  and  let  it  run  down  to  Baltimore,  and 
you'd  find  the  Mississippi,  mammoth  as  it  is,  a  different  guess 
river  from  what  you  now  see  it.  It  wouldn't  overrun  its 
banks  no  more,  nor  break  the  dykes  at  New  Orleans,  nor 
leave  the  great  Cyprus  swamps  under  water  any  longer.    It 


16 


* 


174 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


would  look  pretty  streaked  in  dry  weather,  I  know.  Gist  so 
with  the  colony  trade ;  though  you  can't  see  5t  in  the  ocean  of 
English  trade,  yet  it  is  there.  Cut  it  ofi',  and  see  the  rail  of 
ships  you'd  have  to  jpare,  and  the  thousands  of  seamen  you'd 
have  to  emigrate  to  us !  and  see  how  white  about  the  gills 
Glasgow,  and  Greenock,  and  Liverpool,  and  Manchester,  and 
Birmingham,  would  look.  Cuttin'  off  the  colonies  is  like  cut- 
tin'  off  tlie  roots  of  a  tree ;  it's  an  even  chance  if  it  don't  blow 
right  slap  over  the  very  first  sneeze  of  wind  that  comes ;  anu 
if  it  don't,  the  leaves  curl  up,  turn  yaller,  and  fall  off  afore 
their  time.  Well,  the  next  spring  follerin'  there  is  about  six 
feet  of  the  top  dead,  and  the  tips  of  the  branches  withered, 
and  the  leaves  only  half  size ;  and  the  year  after,  unless  it 
sends  out  new  roots,  it's  a  great  leafless  trunk,  a  sight  to 
behold  ;  and,  if  it  is  strong  enough  to  push  out  new  roots,  it 
may  revive,  but  it  never  looks  like  itself  again.  The  Ivxu- 
riance  is  gone,  and  gone  for  ever. 

You  got  chaps  in  your  parliament  that  never  seed  a  colony, 
and  yet  get  up  and  talk  about  'em  by  the  hour,  and.look  as 
wise  about  'em  as  the  monkey  that  had  seen  the  world. 

In  America  all  our  fprms  a'most  have  what  we  call  the 
rough  pastur' — that  is,  a  '^reat  rough  field  of  a  hundred  acres 
or  so,  near  the  woods,  where  we  turn  in  our  young  cattle,  and 
breedin'  mares,  and  colt?,  and  dry  cows,  and  what  not,  whero 
they  take  care  of  themselves,  and  the  young  stock  grow  up, 
and  the  old  stock  grow  fat.  /<'a  a  grand  outlet  that  to  the 
farm,  that  would  be  overstocked  without  it.  We  could  not 
do  without  it  nohow.  N^ow,  your  colonies  are  the  great  feid 
for  a  redundant  population,  a  grand  outlet.  Ask  the  Eye- 
talians  what  fixed  their  .lint  ?  Losin'  the  overland-trade  to 
India.     Ask  the  folks  to  Cadiz  what  put  them  up  a  tree? 


Losin'  the  trade  to  South  America.  If  that's  too  far  off,  ask 
the  people  of  Bristol  and  Chester  what  ^ewed  them  up  ?  and 
they  will  tell  you,  while  they  was  asleep,  Liverpool  ran  off 
with  their  trade.  And  if  you  havn't  time  to  go  there,  ax  the 
first  coachman  you  get  alongside  of,  what  he  thinks  of  the 
railroads  ?  and  gist  listen  to  the  funeral  hymn  he'll  sing  over 
the  turnpikes.  When  I  was  to  England  last,  I  always  did 
that  when  J  was  in  a  hurry,  and  it  put  coachee  into  such  a 
passion,  he'd  turn  to  and  lick  his  horses  out  o'  spite  into  a  full 
gallop,  D — n  'em,  he'd  say,  them  that  sanctioned  them  rail- 
roads, to  ruin  the  'pikes,  (get  along,  you  lazy  willain,  Char- 


..^7)  ' 


I 
■I 


FINDING   A   MARE  S   NEST. 


176 


ley,  and  he'd  lay  it  into  the  wheeler,)  they  ought  to  be  hanged, 
sir,  (that's  the  ticket,  and  he'd  whop  the  leader,) — yes,  sir,  to 
be  hanged,  for  what  is  to  become  of  them  as  lent  their  money 
on  the  'pikes  ?  (wh — ist,  crack,  crack  goes  the  M'hip) — hanged 
and  quartered  they  ought  to  be.     These  men  ought  to  be 
relunerated  as  well  as  the  slave-holders  ;  I  wonder,  sir,  »vhat 
we  shall  all  come  to  yet  1     Come  to,  says  I ;   why,  to  be  a 
stoker  to  be  sure;  that's  what  all  you  coachmen  will  eend'in 
at  last,  as   sure  as   you  are  born.     A  stoker,  sir,  said  he, 
(lookin'  as  bothered  as  if  it  wor  a  French  furriner  that  word,) 
what  the  d — 1  is  that  1     Why,  a  stoker,  says  I,  is  a  critter 
that  draws,  and  stirs,  and  pokes  the  fire  of  a  steam-engin'. 
I'd  sooner  die  first,  sir,  said   he ;  I  would,  d — n  me,  if  I 
wouldn't !     Only  think  of  a  man  of  my  age  and  size  bein'  a 
stoker,  sir  ;  1  wouldn't  be  in  the  fellow's  skin  that  would  pro- 
pose it  to  me,  for  the  best  shilling  as  ever  came  out  o'  the 
mint,     lake  that^  and  that,  and  that,  he'd  say,  to  the  off  for- 
'ard  horse,  (alayin'  it  into  him  like  mad,)  and  do  your  own 
work,  you  dishonest  rascal.     It  is  fun  alive  you  may  depend- 
No,  sir,  lose  your  colonies,  and  you'd  have  £yc-talian  citiC# 
without  their  climate,  JEj/c-talian  lazaroni  without  their  light 
hearts  to  sing  over  their  poverty,  (for  the  English  can't  sing 
a  bit  better  nor  bull  frogs,)  and  worse  than  £j^e-talian  erup- 
tions and  volcanoes  in  politics,  without  the  grandeur  and  sub- 
limity of  those  in  natur'.     Deceive  not  yourselves ;   if  you 
lop  off  the  branches,  the  tree  perishes,  for  the  leaves  elabo- 
rate the  sap  that  vivifies,  nourishes,  and  supports  the  trunk. 
There's  no  tv/o  ways  about  it,  squire :  "  them  who  say  colo- 
nies are  no  good,  are  either  fools  or  knaves;  if  they  befools 
they  ain't  worth  anstDerin\  and  if  they  are  knaves,  send  them 
to  the  treadmill,  till  they  lam  to  »])eak  the  truth.^^ 


*fr       V    •,.'     *  !■; 


■.»,*-■■•• 


<    ■       .  V  :••."!;, 

i         •    '  , .  ;.'':\', '•■'■'  '■■ 

.;..      .-    ■      ■  •->'•*,  X?<' 

»  . 

^1 

r      ■         ■•. 

',   -   ^^,;■i.^■•'^  ./*ix 

/.    ■ 

:i     '^r    ^'.--M  *  . 

'".•  ;■*'   ' 

■  <'f.>-.    '■''>4,l-v,ir 

'.    »  I 

•;    ir>/      ■^^..■,-;*;5fct. 

J  - 


'      176  :: 


'  I'M 

111 


I 


',! 


THE  OLOCKMAKER. 


'■--V, 


.   .  \ 


^^.*^><-:-4<,u>^»r;>.'-     CHAPTER  XXII.       >^^  ■  '^V^^^'« 


■■'^S--' 


♦      KEEPING  UP  THE  STEAM. 


-\.^ 


It  is  painful  to  think  of  the  blunders  that  have  been  com* 
mitted  from  time  to  time  in  the  management  of  our  colonies, 
and  of  the  gross  ignorance,  or  utter  disregard  of  their  inter- 
ests,  that  has  been  displayed  in  the  treaties  with  foreign  pow- 
ers. Fortunately  for  the  mother  country  the  colonists  are 
warmly  attached  to  her  and  her  institutions,  and  deplore  a 
separation  too  much  to  agitate  questions,  however  important, 
that  may  have  a  tendency  to  weaken  their  affections  by 
arousing  their  passions.  The  time,  however,  has  now  arrived 
when  the  treatment  of  adults  should  supersede  that  of  chil- 
dren. Other  and  nearer,  and,  for  the  time,  more  important 
interests,  have  occupied  her  attention,  and  diverted  her 
Noughts  from  those  distant  portions  of  the  empire.  Much, 
therefore,  that  has  been  done  may  be  attributed  to  want  of 
accurate  information,  while  it  is  to  be  feared  much  also  has 
arisen  from  not  duly  appreciating  their  importance.  The 
government  of  the  provinces  has  been  but  too  often  intrusted 
to  persons  who  have  been  selected,  not  so  much  from  their 
peculiar  fitness  for  the  situation,  as  with  reference  to  their 
interests,  or  their  claims  for  reward  for  past  services  in  other 
departments.  From  persons  thus  chosen,  no  very  accurate 
or  useful  information  can  be  expected.  This  is  the  more  to 
be  regretted  as  the  resolutions  of  the  dominant  party,  either 
in  the  House  of  Assembly  or  Council,  are  not  always  to  be 
received  as  conclusive  evidence  of  public  opinion.  They  are 
sometimes  produced  by  accidental  causes,  often  by  temporary 
excitement,  and  frequently  by  the  intrigue  or  talents  of  one 
man.  In  the  colonies,  the  legislature  is  more  often  in  advance 
of  public  opinion,  than  coerced. by  it,  and  the  •pressure  from 
without  is  sometimes  caused  by  the  excitement  previously 
existing  within,  while  in  many  cases  the  people  do  not  par- 
ticipate in  the  views  of  their  representatives.  Hence  the 
resolutions  of  one  day  are  sometimes  rescinded  the  next,  and 
a  subsequent  session,  or  a  new  house,  is  found  to  hold  opin- 
ions opposed  to  those  of  its  predecessor.     To  these  difficulties 


9^- 


Mil 


•II 


KEEPING   UP   THE   STEAM. 


177 


sen  com* 
colonies, 
eir  inter- 
ign  pow- 
lists  are 
epiore  a 
iportanty 
tions  by 
V  arrived 

of  chil- 

mportant 

rted  her 

Much, 

want  of 
also  has 
!e.  The 
intrusted 
om  their 

to  their 
in  other 
accurate 
more  to 
y,  either 
^s  to  be 
'hey  are 
fnporary 

of  one 
advance 
re  from 
eviously 
lot  par- 
nce  the 
i\t,  and 
Id  opin- 
!iiculties 


in  obtaining  accurate  information,  may  be  added  the  uncertain 
character  of  that  arising  from  private  sources.  Individuals 
having  access  to  the  Colonial  Office,  are  not  always  the  best 
qualified  for  consultation,  and  interest  or  prejudice  is  but  too 
often  found  to  operate  insens'bly  even  upon  those  whose  sin- 
cerity and  integrity  are  undoubted.  As  a  remedy  for  these 
evils  it  has  been  proposed  to  give  the  colonies  a  representa- 
tion in  parliament,  but  the  measure  is'  attended  with  so  many 
'  objections,  and  such  inherent  difficulties,  that  it  may  be  con- 
sidered almost  impracticable.  The  only  satisfactory  and 
efficient  prescription  that  political  quackery  has  hitherto  sug- 
gested, appears  to  be  that  of  a  Colonial  Council-borird,  com- 
posed principally,  if  not  wholly,  of  persons  from  the  respec- 
tive provinces ;  who,  while  the  minister  changes  with  the 
cabinet  of  the  day,  shall  remain  as  permanent  members,  to 
inform,  advise,  and  assist  his  successor.  None  but  natives 
can  fully  understand  the  peculiar  feelings  of  the  colonists. 
The  advantages  to  be  derived  from  such  a  board,  are  too  obvi- 
ous to  be  enlarged  upon,  and  will  readily  occur  to  any  one  at 
all  conversant  with  these  subjects ;  for  it  is  a  matter  of  noto- 
riety, that  a  correspondence  may  he  commenced  by  one  min- 
ister, continued  by  a  second,  and  terminated  by  a  third,  so 
rapid  have  sometimes  been  the  changes  in  this  department. 
It  is  not  my  business,  however,  to  suggest,  (and  I  heartily 
rejoice  that  it  is  not,  for  I  am  no  projector,)  but  simply  to 
record  the  sayings  and  doings  of  that  eccentric  personage, 
Mr.  Samuel  Slick,  to  whom  it  is  now  high  time  to  return. 

You  object,  said  I,  to  the  present  line  of  government  pack- 
ets running  between  Falmouth  and  Halifax  (and  I  must  say, 
not  without  reason:)  pray,  what  do  you  propose  to  substitute 
in  their  places.  Well,  I  don't  know,  said  he,  as  I  gist  altogether 
ought  to  blart  out  all  I  think  about  it.  Our  folks  mightn't  be 
over  half  pleased  with  me  for  the  hint,  for  our  New  York- 
liners  have  the  whole  run  of  the  passengers  now,  and  plaguy 
proud  our  folks  be  of  it,  too,  I  tell  you.  Why,  if  it  was  to 
leak  out  it  was  me  that  put  you  up  to  it,  I  should  have  to 
gallop  through  the  country  when  I  returned  home,  as  Head 
did — you  know  Head  the  author,  don't  you?  There  a;e 
several  gentlemen  of  that  name,  I  replied,  who  have  distin- 
guished themselves  as  authors ;  pray,  which  do  you  mean  ? 
Well,  I  don't  know,  said  he,  as  I  can  gist  altogothcr  indicate 
the  identical  man  I  mean,  but  I  calculate  it 's  him  that  gal- 
loped the  wild  horses  in  the  Pampas  a  hundred  miles  a  doy 


•r>\  A 


178 


THE   CLOCKHAKER. 


.; 


hand  runnin\  day  in  and  day  out,  on  beef  tea,  made  of  hung 
beef  and  cold  water ; — it 's  the  gallopin'  one  *I  mean ;  he  is 
Governor  to  Caaada  now,  I  believe.  You  know  in  that  are 
book  he  wrote  on  gallopin'  he  says,  "  the  greatest  luxury  in 
all  natur'  is  to  rfHe  without  trousers  on  a  horse  without  a  sad< 
die," — what  we  call  bare-breeched  and  bare-backed.  (Oh ! 
I  wonder  he  didn't  die  a-larfin',  I  do,  I  vow.  Them  great 
thistles  that  he  says  grow  in  the  Pampas  as  high  as  a  hu- 
man's head,  must  have  tickled  a  man  a'most  to  death  that 
rode  that  way.)  Well,  now,  if  I  was  to  tell  you  how  to  work 
it  I  should  have  to  ride  armed  as  he  was  in  his  travels,  with 
two  pair  of  detonatin'  pistols  and  a  double-barrelled  gun,  and 
when  I  seed  a  gaucho  of  a  New  Yorker  a-comin',  clap  the 
reins  in  my  mouth,  set  off  at  full  gallop,  and  pint  a  pistol  at 
him  with  each  hand  ;  or  e\se  I  M  have  to  lasso  him, — that 's 
sartain, — for  they  'd  make  travellin'  in  that  state  too  hot  for 
me  to  wear  breeches  I  know.  I  'd  have  to  off  with  them  full 
chisel,  and  go  it  ^are-backed, — that 's  as  clear  as  mud.  I  be- 
lieve Sir  Francis  Head  is  no  great  favourite,  I  replied,  with 
your  countrymen,  but  he  is  very  popular  with  the  colonists, 
and  very  deservedly  so.  He  is  an  able  and  efficient  governor, 
and  possesses  the  entire  confidence  of  the  provinces.  He  is 
placed  in  a  very  difficult  situation,  and  appears  to  display 
great  tact  and  great  talent.  Well,  well,  said  he,  let  that  pass; 
1  won't  say  he  don't,  though  I  wish  he  wouldn't  talk  so  much 
ag'in  us  as  he  does,  anyhow ;  but  will  you  promise  you  won't 
let  on  it  was  me  now  if  I  tell  you?  Certainly,  said  I,  your 
name  shall  be  concealed.  Well,  then,  I  '11  tell  you,  said  he ; 
turn  your  attention  to  steam  navigation  to  Halifax.  Steam 
will  half  rum  England,  yet,  if  they  don't  mind.  It  will  drain 
it  of  its  money,  drain  it  of  its  population,  and — what 's  more 
than  all—what  it  can  spare  least  of  all,  and  what  it  will  feel 
more  nor  all,  its  artisans,  its  skilful  workmen,  and  its  honest, 
intelligent,  and  respectable  middle  classes.  It  will  leave  you 
nothin'  in  time  but  your  aristocracy  and  your  poor.  A  trip 
to  Amerirn  'g  goin'  to  be  nc  thin'  more  than  a  trip  to  France, 
and  folks  wi's  3">  i  ho.e  land  is  cheap  and  labour  high.  It 
will  build  the  m  v  'vorlu  jp,  but  it  will  drain  the  old  one  out  in 
away  no  on'^  thmK"  on.  Turn  this  tide  of  emigration  to  your 
own  prc>^'ri«>v,  o/,  tu?  ame  as  eggs  ?s  oggs,  we  will  get  it  all. 
You  ban  t  ir-  r  tier  whai  sicam  is  destined  to  do  for  America. 
It  will  makv^  it  look  asj  tright  as  a  i  i  wter  button  yet,  I  know. 
The  distauct,  -s  \  ma'v-j  it  ^voni  Bristol  to  New  York  Light- 


m' 


KEBPIirO   UP  THE  STEAM. 


179 


of  hung 
n ;  he  is 
that  are 
uxury  in 
at  a  sad- 
1.  (Oh! 
!m  great 
is  a  hu- 
3ath  that 
to  work 
els,  with 
;un,  and 
clap  the 
pistol  at 
—that 's 
D  hot  for 
hem  full 
d.  I  be- 
ed,  with 
olonists, 
overnor, 
.     He  is 

display 
at  pass ; 
lo  much 
)u  won't 

I,  your 
said  he ; 

Steam 
ill  drain 

s  more 
will  feel 

honest, 
ave  you 
A  trip 
France, 
igh.  It 
le  out  in 

to  your 
et  it  all. 
imerica. 
I  know. 
k  Light- 


house, is  3037  miles  ;  from  Bristol  to  Halifax  Light-house  is 
2479  ;  from  Halifax  Light  to  New  York  Light  is  522  miles, — 
in  all,  3001  miles ;  558  miles  shorter  than  New  York  line ; 
and  even  going  to  New  York,  36  miles  shorter  to  stop  to  Hal- 
ifax than  to  go  to  New  York  direct.  I  fix  on  Bristol  'cause 
it's  a  better  port  for  the  purpose  than  Liverpool,  and  the  new 
rail-road  will  be  gist  the  dandy  for  you.  But  them  great,  fat, 
porter-drinkin'  critters  of  Bristol  have  been  asnorin'  fast  asleep 
for  half  a  century,  and  only  gist  got  one  eye  open  now.  I'm 
most  afeerd  they  will  turn  over,  and  take  the  second  nap,  and 
if  they  do  they  are  done  for — that's  a  fact.  Now  you  take 
the  chart,  and  work  it  yourself,  squire,  for  I'm  no  great  hand 
at  navigation.  I've  been  a  whaling  voyage,  and  a  few  other 
sea  trips,  and  I  know  a  little  about  it,  but  not  much,  and  yet, 
if  I  ain't  pretty  considerable  near  the  mark,  I'll  give  them 
leave  to  guess  that  knows  better — that's  all.  Get  your  legis- 
latur'  to  persuade  government  to  contract  with  the  Great 
Western  folks  to  carry  the  mail,  and  drop  it  in  their  way  to 
New  York ;  for  you  got  as  much  and  as  good  coal  to  Nova 
Scotia  as  England  has,  and  the  steam-boats  would  have  to 
carry  a  supply  for  550  miles  less,  and  could  take  in  a  stock 
at  Halifax  for  the  return  voyage  to  Europe.  If  ministers 
won't  do  that,  get  'em  to  send  steam  packets  of  their  own,  and 
you  wouldn't  be  no  longer  an  everlastin'  outlandish  country 
no  more  as  you  be  now.  And,  more  nor  that,  you  wouldn't 
lose  all  the  best  emigrants  and  all  their  capital,  who  now  go 
to  the  States  'cause  the  voyage  is  safer,  and  remain  there 
'cause  they  are  tired  of  travellin',  and  can't  get  down  Jiere 
without  risk  of  their  precious  necks  and  ugly  mugs. 

But  John  Bull  is  like  all  other  sponsible  folks ;  he  thinks 
'cause  he  is  rich  he  is  wise  too,  and  knows  every  thing,  when 
in  fact  he  knows  plaguy  little  outside  of  his  own  location. 
Like  all  other  consaited  folks,  too,  he  don't  allow  nobody  else 
to  know  nothin'  neither  but  himself.  The  Eyetalian  is  too 
lazy,  the  French  too  smirky,  the  Spaniard  too  banditti,  the 
Dutch  too  smoky,  the  German  too  dreamy,  the  Scotch  too 
itchy,  the  Irish  too  popey,  and  the  Yankee  too  tricky;  all 
low,  all  ignorant,  all  poor.  He  thinks  the  noblest  work  of 
God  an  Englishmah.  He  is  on  considerable  good  terms 
with  himself,  too,  is  John  Bull,  when  he  has  his  go-to-meet- 
in'  clothes  on,  his  gold-headed  cane  in  his  hand,  and  his 
puss  buttoned  up  tight  in  his  trousers  pocket.  He  wears  his 
hat  a  little  a  one  side,  rakish-like,  whaps  his  cane  down  ag'in 


!*1»W4»«BtJ'««l»»»>»^'"  •■"  " 


vr:-\ 


180 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


the  pavement  hard,  as  if  he  intended  to  keep  things  in  their 
place,  swaggers  a  few,  as  if  he  thought  he  had  a  right  to  look 
big,  and  stares  at  you  full  and  hard  in  the  face,  with  a  know- 
in^  toss  of  his  head,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Thafs  me,  d — n 
you  /"  and  who  you  be  I  don't  know,  and  what's  more  I  don't 
want  to  know;  so  clear  the  road  double  quick,  will  you? 
Yes,  take  John  at  his  own  valiation,  and  I  guess  you'd  get  a 
considerable  hard  bargain  of  him,  for  he  is  old,  thick  in  the 
wind,  tender  in  the  foot,  weak  in  the  knees,  too  cussed  fat  to 
travel,  and  plaguy  cross-grained  and  ill-tempered.  If  you  go 
for  to  raise  your  voice  to  him,  or  even  so  much  as  lay  the 
weight  of  your  finger  on  him,  his  Ebenezer  is  up  in  a  minit. 
I  don't  like  him  one  bit,  and  I  don't  know  who  the  plague 
does :  but  that's  neither  here  nor  there. 

Do  you  get  your  legislature  to  interfere  in  this  matter ;  for 
steam  navigation  will  be  the  makin'  of  you  if  you  work  it 
right.  It  is  easy,  I  replied,  to  suggest,  but  not  quite  so  easy, 
Mr.  Slick,  as  you  suppose,  to  have  these  projects  carried  into 
execution.  Government  may  not  be  willing  to  permit  the 
mail  to  be  carried  by  contract.  Permit  it !  said  he  with  ani- 
mation ;  to  be  sure  it  will  perinit  it.  Don't  they  grant  every 
thing  you  ask  ?  don't  they  concede  one  thing  arter  another  to 
you  to  keep  you  quiet,  till  they  han't  got  much  left  to  con- 
cede ?  It  puts  me  in  mind  of  a  missionary  I  once  seed  down 
to  Bows  and  Arrows  (Buenos  Ayres.)  He  went  out  to  con- 
yart  the  people  from  bein'  Roman  Catholics,  and  to  persuade 
the  Spaniards  to  pray  in  English  instead  of  Latin,  and  to  get 
dipt  anew  by  him,  and  he  carried  sway  there  like  a  house  a 
fire,  till  the  sharks  one  day  made  a  tarnation  sly  dash  among 
his  convarts  that  was  a  wadin'  out  in  the  water,  and  gist 
walked  off  with  three  on  'em  by  the  legs,  screamin'  and 
yelpin'  like  mad.  Arter  that  he  took  to  a  pond  outside  the 
town,  and  one  day  as  he  was  awalkin'  out  with  his  hands 
behind  him,  ameditatin'  on  that  are  profane  trick  the  sharks 
played  him,  and  what  a  slippery  world  this  was,  and  what 
not,  who  should  he  meet  but  a  party  of  them  Gauchos,  that 
galloped  up  to  him  as  quick  as  wink,  and  made  him  prisoner. 
Well,  they  gist  fell  to,  and  not  only  robbed  him  of  all  he  had, 
'but  stripped  him  of  all  his  clothes  hut  his  breeches,  and  them 
they  left  him  for  decency  sake  to  get  back  to  town  in.  Poor 
critter  !  he  felt  streaked  enough,  I  do  assure  you ;  he  was 
near  about  frightened  out  of  his  seven  senses  ;  he  didn't  know 


■m 


KEEPING   UP    THE    STEAM. 


181 


whether  he  was  standin'  on  his  head  or  his  heels,  and  was 
e'en  a*most  sure  they  were  agoin'  to  murder  him.  So,  said 
he,  my  beloved  friends,  said  he,  I  beseech  you,  is  there  any 
thing  more  you  want  of  me  ?  Do  we  want  any  thing  more 
of  you  ?  says  they ;  why,  you  han't  got  nothen'  left  but  your 
breeches,  you  nasty,  dirty,  blackguard  heretic  you,  and  do 
you  want  to  part  with  them  too  ?  and  they  gist  fell  to  and 
welted  him  all  the  way  into  the  town  with  the  tip  eend  of 
their  lassos,  larfin',  and  hoopin',  and  hollerin'  at  the  joke 
like  so  many  ravin'  distracted  devils. 

Well,  now,  your  government  is  near  about  as  well  off  as 
the  missionary  was  ;  they've  granted  every  thing  they  had 
a'most,  till  they  han't  got  much  more  than  the  breeches  left, 
— the  mere  sovereignty,  and  that's  all.  No,  no ;  gist  you  ax 
for  steam-packets,  and  you'll  get  'em — that's  a  fact.  Oh, 
squire,  if  John  Bull  only  knew  the  valy  of  these  colonies,  he 
would  be  a  great  man,  I  tell  you  ;  but  he  don't.  You  can't 
make  an  account  of  'em  in  dollars  and  cents,  the  cost  on  one 
side,  and  the  profit  on  t'other,  and  strike  the  balance  of  the 
"  tottle  of  the  hull^^^  as  that  are  critter  Hume  calls  it.  You 
can't  put  into  figur's  a  nursery  for  seamen ;  a  resource  for 
timber  if  the  Baltic  is  shot  ag'in  you,  or  a  population  of  brave 
and  loyal  people,  a  growing  and  sure  market,  an  outlet  for 
emigration,  the  first  fishery  in  the  world,  their  political  and 
relative  importance,  the  power  they  would  give  a  rival,  con- 
verting a  friend  into  a  foe,  or  a  customer  into  a  rival,  or  a 
shop  full  of  goods,  and  no  sale  for  'em — Figures  are  the 
representatives  of  numbers^  and  not  things.  Molesworth  may 
talk,  and  Hume  may  cypher,  till  one  on  'em  is  as  hoarse  as  a 
crow,  and  t'other  as  blind  as  a  bat,  and  they  won't  make  that 
table  out,  I  know.  .  "'. 

That's  all  very  true,  I  said,  but  you  forget  that  the  latter 
gentleman  says  that  America  is  now  a  better  customer  than 
when  she  was  a  colony,  and  maintains  her  own  government 
at  her  own  expense,  and  therefore  he  infers  that  the  remain- 
ing dependencies  are  useless  incumbrances.  And  he  forgets 
too,  he  replied,  that  he  made  his  fortin'  himself  in  a  colony, 
and  therefore  it  don't  become  him  to  say  so,  and  that  America 
is  larnin'  to  sell  as  well  as  to  buy,  and  to  manufactur'  as  well 
as  to  import,  and  to  hate  as  much,  and  a  little  grain  more, 
than  she  loved,  and  that  you  are  weaker  by  all  her  strength. 
He  forgets,  too,  that  them  that  separate  from  a  government, 
16 


■■' 


' 


1S2 


)/    THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


or  secede  from  a  church,  always  hate  those  they  leave  much 
worse  than  those  who  are  born  in  different  states  or  different 
sects..  It*s  a  fa^'.t,  I  assure  you,  those  critters  that  desarted 
our  church  to  Slicloille  in  temper  that  time  about  the  choice 
of  an  elder,  were  the  only  ones  that  hated,  and  reviled,  and 
persecuted  us  in  all  Connecticut,  for  we  were  on  friendly  or 
neutral  terms  with  all  the  rest.  Keep  a  sharp  look-out  always 
for  desarters,  for  when  they  jine  the  enemy  they  figh '  like  the 
devil.     No  one  hates  like  him  that  has  once  been  a  friend* 

He  forgets  that  a but  it's  no  use  atalkin' ;  you  n>ight  its 

well  whistle  jigs  to  a  mile-stone  as  talk  to  a  goney  thai  says 
fifteen  millions  of  inimies  are  as  good  as  fifteen  millions  of 
friends,  unless  indeed  it  is  with  nations  as  with  individuals, 
that  it  is  better  to  have  some  folks  agMn  you  than  for  you,  for 
I  vow  there  are  chaps  in  your  parliament  that  ainU  no  c.  edit 
to  no  party. 

But  this  folly  of  John  Bull  ain't  the  worst  of  it,  squire ;  it's 
consid  "  Me  more  silly  ;  he  invites  the  colonists  to  fight  his 
own  troops,  and  then  pays  all  the  expense  of  the  entertainment. 
If  that  don't  beat  ccck-fightin',  it's  a  pity  :  it  fairly  bangs  the 
bush,  that.  If  there's  a  rebellion  to  Canada,  squire,  (and 
there  will  be  as  sure  as  there  are  gnakes  in  Varginy,)  it  will 
be  planned,  advised,  ^nd  sot  on  foot  in  London,  you  may 
depend,  for  them  sm  pie  critters  the  French  would  never 
think  of  it,  if  they  were  not  put  up  to  it.  Them  that  advise 
Papinor  rebel,  and  set  his  folks  to  murder  Englishmen,  and 
promise  to  back  them  in  England,  are  for  everlastin'ly  atalkia' 
of  economy,  and  yet  instigate  them  parley  vous  to  put  the 
nation  to  more  expense  than  they  and  their  party  ever  saved 
by  all  their  barking  in  their  life,  or  ever  could,  if  they  were 
to  live  as  long  as  Merusalem.  If  them  poor  Frenchmen 
rebel,  gist  pardon  them  right  off  the  reel  without  sayin'  a 
word,  for  they  don't  know  nothin',  but  rig  up  a  gallus  in 
London  as  high  as  a  church  steeple,  and  I'll  give  you  the 
names  of  a  few  villains  there,  the  cause  of  all  the  murders, 
and  arsons,  and  robberies,  and  miseries,  and  sufferin's  that 
'ill  foller.  Gist  take  'em  and  string  'em  up  like  onsafe  dogs. 
A  critter  that  throws  a  firebrand  among  combustibles,  must 
answer  for  th^  fire ;  and  when  he  throws  it  into  his  neigh- 
bour's house,  and  not  his  own,  he  is  both  a  coward  and  a 
villain.  Cuss  'em !  hangin'  is  too  good  for  'em,  I  say ;  don't 
you,  squire  ?  >^ 


/ 


c^^ 


l/^ 


<^Y^. 


'^^ 


KEKnna  up  the  steam. 


168 


This  was  the  last  coaversation  I  had  with  the  Clockraaker 
00  politics.  I  have  endeavuured  to  give  his  remarks  in  his 
own  language,  and  a&  nearly  verbatim  as  I  could ;  biit  they 
were  so  desultory  and  dkcursive,  that  they  rather  resembled 
thinking  aloud  than  a  connected  conversation,  and  his  illustra* 
Hods  often  led  him  into  such  long  episodes,  that  he  sometimes 
wandered  into  new  topics  before  he  had  closed  his  remarks 
upon  the  subject  he  was  discoursing  on.  It  is,  I  believe,  not 
an  uncommon  mode  with  Americans,  when  they  talk,  to 
amuse  rather  than  convince.  Although  there  is  evidently 
some  exaggeration,  there  is  also  a  great  deal  of  truth  in  his 
observations.  They  are  the  result  of  long  experience,  and  a 
thorough  and  intimate  knowledge  of  the  provinces,  and  I  con- 
fe'is  I  think  they  are  entitled  to  great  weight. 

The  bane  of  the  colonies,  as  of  England,  it  appears  to  me» 
is  ultra  opinions.  The  cis- Atlantic  ultra  tory  is  a  nondescript 
animal,  as  well  as  the  ultra  radical.  Neither  have  the  same 
objects  or  the  same  principles  with  those  in  the  mother  coun- 
try,  whose  names  they  assume.  It  is  difficult  to  say  which 
does  most  injury.  The  violence  of  the  radical  defeats  his 
own  views  ;  the  violence  of  his  opponent  defeats  those  of  the 
government,  while  both  incite  each  other  to  greater  extremes. 
It  is  not  easy  to  define  the  principles  of  either  of  these  ultra 
political  parties  in  the  colonies.  An  unnatural,  and,  it  would 
appear,  a  personal,  and  therefore  a  contemptible  jealousy, 
influences  the  one,  and  a  ridiculous  assumption  the  other,  the 
smallest  possible  amount  of  salary  being  held  as  sufficient  for 
a  public  officer  by  the  former,  and  the  greater  part  of  the 
revenues  inadequate  for  the  purpose  by  the  latter,  while  patri- 
otism and  loyalty  are  severally  claimed  as  the  exclusive  attri- 
butes of  each.  As  usual,  extremes  meet ;  the  same  emptiness 
distinguishes  both,  the  same  loud  professions,  the  same  violent 
invectives,  and  the  s^me  selfishness.  They  are  carnivorous 
animals,  having  a  strong  appetite  to  devour  their  enemies,  and 
occasionally  showing  no  repugnance  to  sacrifice  a  friend. 
Amidst  the  clamours  of  these  noisy  disputants,  the  voice  of  the 
thinking  and  moderate  portion  of  the  community  is  drowned, 
and  government  but  too  often  seems  to  forget  the  existence  of^ 
this  more  numerous,  more  respectable,  and  more  valuable 
class.  He  who  adopts  extreme  radical  doctrines  in  order  to 
carry  numbers  by  flattering  their  prejudices,  or  he  who' 
assumes  the  tone  of  the  ultra  tory  of  England,  because  he 


4 


184 


THE    CLOCKMAKER. 


imagines  it  to  be  that  of  the  aristocracy  of  that  country,  and 
more  current  among  those  of  the  little  colonial  courts,  betrayp 
at  once  a  want  of  sense  and  a  want  of  integrity,  and  should 
be  treated  accordingly  by  those  who  are  sent  to  administer 
the  government.  There  is  as  little  safety  in  the  councils  of 
those  who,  seeing  no  defect  in  the  institutions  of  their  country, 
or  desiring  no  change  beyond  an  extension  of  patronage  and 
salary.,  stigmatize  all  who  differ  from  them  as  discontented 
and  disloyal,  as  there  is  in  a  party  that  call  for  organic 
changes  in  the  constitution,  for  the  mere  purpose  of  supplant- 
ing their  rivals,  by  opening  new  sources  of  preferment  for 
themselves.  Instead  of  committing  himself  into  the  hands  of 
either  of  these  factions,  as  is  often  the  case,  and  thereby  at 
once  inviting  and  defying  the  opposition  of  the  other,  a 
governor  should  be  instructed  to  avoid  them  both,  and  to 
assemble  around  liim  for  council  those  only  who  partake  not  of 
the  selfishness  of  the  one  or  the  violence  of  the  other,  but  who, 
uniting  firmness  with  moderation,  are  not  afraid  to  redress  a 
grievance  tecause  it;  involves  a  change,  or  to  uphold  the  estab- 
lished institutions  of  the  country  because  it  exposes  them  to 
the  charge  of  corrupt  motives.  Such  men  exist  in  every 
colony ;  and  though  a  governor  may  not  find  them  the  most 
prominent,  he  will  at  least  find  them  t^:  surest  and  safest 
guides  in  the  end.  Such  a  course  of  policy  will  soften  the 
asperities  of  party,  by  stripping  it  of  success,  will  rally  round 
the  local  governments  men  of  property,  integrity,  and  talent ; 
and  inspire  by  its  impartiality,  moderation,  and  consistency, 
a  feeling  of  satisfaction  and  confidence  through  the  whole 
population. 


THE   CLOCKlIAIUaR*S   PAIlTIlfO    ADVICE. 


ISfi 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


,'■!« 


.   ■■■:     *''  •:*>  '"'  "■■■  .V- 

THE  CLOCKMAKER'S  PARTING  ADVICE. 


Having  now  fulfilled  his  engagement  with  me,  Mr.  Slick 
informed  me  that  business  required  his  presence  at  the  river 
Philip,  and,  that  as  he  could  delay  his  departure  no  .onger,  he 
had  called  for  the  purpose  of  taking  leave.  I  am  plaguy  loath 
to  part  with  you,  said  he,  you  may  depend;  it  makes  me  feel 
quite  louesum  like :  but  I  ain't  quite  certified  we  shan't  have  a 
tower  in  Europe  yet  afore  we've  done.  You  have  a  pair  of 
pistols,  squire, — as   neat  a  little  pair  of  sneezers  as  I  e'en 

a'most  ever  seed,  and They  are  yours,  I  said ;  I  am  glad 

you  like  them,  and  I  assure  you  you  could  not  grntify  me 
more  than  by  doing  m6  the  favour  to  accept  them.  That's 
gist  what  I  was  agoin'  to  say,  said  he,  and  I  brought  my  rifle 
here  to  ax  yo  i  to  exchange  for  'em ;  it  will  sometimes  put 
you  in  mind  of  Sam  Slick  the  Clockmaker,  and  them  are  little 
pistols  are  such  grand  pocket  companions,  there  won't  be  a 
day  a'most  I  won't  think  of  the  squire.  He  then  examined 
the  lock  of  the  rifle,  turned  it  over,  and  looked  at  the  stock, 
i^nd  bringing  it  to  his  shoulder,  ran  his  eye  along  the  barrel, 
as  if  in  the  act  of  discharging  it.  True  as  a  hair,  squire, 
there  can't  be  no  better ;  and  there's  the  mould  for  the  balls 
that  gist  fit  her ;  you  may  depend  on  her  to  a  sartainty ;  she'll 
never  deceive  you ;  there's  no  mistake  in  a  raei  riglit  down 
genutrine  good  Kentuck,  I  tell  you ;  but  as  you  aiu  t  much 
used  to  'em,  always  bring  her  slowly  up  to  the  line  of  sight 
and  then  let  go  as  soon  as  you  have  the  range.  If  you  bring 
her  down  to  the  sight  instead  of  «p,  she'll  be  apt  to  settle  a 
little  below  it  in  your  hands,  and  carry  low.  That  wrinkle  is 
worth  havin',  I  tell  you ;  that's  a  fact.  Take  time,  elevate 
her  slowly,  so  as  to  catch  the  range  to  u  hair,  and  you'll  hit  a 
dollar  at  seventy  yards  hand  runnin'.  I  can  take  the  eye  of 
a  squirrel  out  with  her  as  easy  as  kiss  my  hand.  A  fair  ex- 
change  is  no  robbery  any  how,  and  I  shall  set  great  store  by 
them  are  pistols,  you  may  depend. 

•    Having  finished  that  are  little  trade,  squire,  there  is  another 
small  matter  I  want  to  talk  over  with  you  afore  I  quit,  that 
16* 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

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■..atj^iitmewMtatAidt 


4aUMaa«uk.>4  ''-.Miu>-«»M'  - 


186 


^HB  CLOCKMAKBR. 


perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  you  and  I  onderstood  each  other 
upon.  What  is  that?  said  I.  Why,  the  last  dme,  squire, 
said  he,  I  travellefl  with  you,  you  published  our  tower  in  a 
book,  and  there  were  some  notions  in  it  gave  me  a  plaguy 
sight  of  oneasiness ;  that's  a  fact.  Some  things  you  coloured 
so,  I  didn't  know  'em  when  I  seed  'em  ag'in ;  some  things 
you  left  out  bolus  bolus,  and  there  were  some  small  matters  I 
never  heerd  tell  of  afore  till  I  seed  them  writ  down ;  you  must 
have  made  them  out  of  whdle  cloth.  When  I  went  home  to 
se6  about  the  stock  I  had  in  the  Slickville  bank,  folks  scolded 
a.^d  deal  about  it.  They  said  it  warn't  the  part  of  a  good 
citizen  for  to  go  to  publish  any  thing  to  lessen  our  great  nation 
in  the  eyes  of  foreigners,  or  to  lower  the  exalted  station  we 
had  among  the  nations  of  the  airth.  They  said  the  dignity 
of  the  American  people  was  at  stake,  and  they  were  deter- 
mined some  o'  these  days  to  go  to  war  with  the  English  i^they 
didn't  give  up  some  o'  their  writers  to  be  punished  by  our 
laws ;  and  that  if  any  of  our  citizens  was  accessory  to  such 
practices,  and  they  (itched  him,  they'd  give  him  an  American 
jacket,  that  is,  a  warp  of  tar,  and  a  nap  wove  of  feathers.  I 
don't  feel,  therefore,  altogether  easy  'bout  your  new  book ;  I , 
should  like  to  see  it  afore  we  part,  to  soften  down  things  a 
little,  and  to  have  matters  sot  to  rights,  afore  the  slang- 
whangers  get  hold  of  it. 

I  think,  too,  atween  you  and  me,  you  had  ought  to  let  me 
go  sheers  in  the  speck,  for  I  have  suffered  considerable  by  it. 
The  clock  trade  is  done  now  in  this  province ;  there's  an  eend 
to  that;  you've  put  a  toggle  into  thj^t  chain;  you  couldn't 
give  'em  away  now  a'most.  Our  folks  are  not  over  and  above 
well  pleased  with  me,  I  do  assure  you ;  and  the  blue-noses  scty 
I  have  dealt  considerable  hard  with  them.  They  are  plaguy 
ryled,  you  may  depend ,  and  the  English  have  come  in  for 
thfsir  share  of  the  curryin*  too.  I  han't  made  many  friends 
by  it,  I  know ;  and  if  there^is  any  thing  to  be  made  out  of  the 
consarn,  I  think  it  no  more  than  fair  I  should  have  my  share 
of  it.  One  thing,  however,  I  hope  you  will  promise  me,  and 
that  is  to  show  me  the  manuscript  aforfe  you  let  it  go  out  of 
your  hands.  Certainly,  said  I,  Mr.  Slick,  I  shall  have  great 
'pleasure  in  reading  it  over  to  you  before  it  goes  to  the  press ; 
and  if  there  is  any  thing  in  it  that  will  compromise  you  with 
your  countrymen,  or  injure  your  feelings,  I  will  strike  out  the 
objectionable  passage,  or  soften  it  down  to  meet  your  wishes. 


THE  CLOOKM AKER  S-  PARTIITO   ADVIOB. 


187 


Well)  said  be,  that's  pretty ;  now  I  like  that ;  and  if  you  take 
a  fancy  to  travel  in  the  States,  or  to  take  a  tower  in  Europe, 
Vm  your  man.  Send  me  a  line  to  Slickville,  and  Pll  jine  you 
where  you  like  and  when  you  like.  I  shall  be  in  Hali&x  in 
a  month  from  the  present  time,  and  will  call  and  see  you ; 
p*raps  you  will  have  the  book  ready  then ;-— and  presenting 
me  with  his  rifle,  and  putting  the  pistols  in  his  pocket,  he  took- 
leave  of  me,  and  drove  into  the  country. 

Fortunately,  when  he  arrived  I  had  the  manuscript  com- 
pleted; and  when  I  had  finished  reading  it  to  him,  he  delibe- 
rately lit  his  cigar,  and  folding  his  arms,  and  throwing  him- 
self back  in  his  chair,  which  he  balanced  on  two  legs,  he  said, 
I  presume  I  may  ask  what  is  your  object  in  writing  that  bookl 
You  don't  like  republics,  ttiat's  sartain,  for  you  have  coloured 
matters  so  it's  easy  to  see  which  way  the  cat  jumps.  Do  you 
mean  to  write  a  satire  on  our  great  nation,  and  our  free  and 
enlightened  citizens  ? — because  if  you  do,  gist  rub  my  name 
out  of  it,  if  you  please.  I'll  have  neither  art  nor  part  in  it  $ 
I  won't  have  nothin'  to  do  with  it  on  no  account.  It's  a  dirty 
bird  that  fouls  its  own  nest.  I'm  not  agoin'  for  to  wake  up  a 
swarm  o'  hornets  about  my  ears,  I  tell  you ;  I  know  a  tric^ 
worth  two  o'  that,  I  reckon.  Is  it  to  sarve  a  particmlar  pur- 
pose, or  is  it  a  mere  tradin' speck  ? 

I  will  tell  you  candidly,  sir,  what  my  object  is,  I  ref^ed* 
In  the  Canadas  there  is  a  party  advocating  republican  iniErtitu- 
tions,  and  hostility  to  every  thing  British.  In  doing  so,  they 
exaggerate  all  the  advantages  of  such  a  form  of  government, 
and  depreciate  the  blessings  of  a  limited  monarchy.  In  Eng- 
land this  party  unfortunately  finds  too  many  supporters,  either 
from  a  misapprehension  of  the  true  state  of  the  case,  or  from 
a  participation  in  their  treasonable  views.  The  sketches  con- 
tained in  the  present  and  preceding  series  of  the  Olockmaker, 
it  is  hoped,  will  throw  some  light  on  the  topics  of  the  day,  as 
connected  with  the  designs  of  the  anti-English  party.  The 
object  is  purely  patriotic.  I  beg  of  you  to  be  assured  that  I 
have  no  intention  whatever  to  ridicule  your  institutions  or 
your  countrymen ;  nothing  can  be  further  from  my  thoughts ; 
and  it  would  give  me  great  pain  if  I  could  suppose  for  a  mo- 
ment that  any  person  could  put  such  an  interpretation  upon 
my  conduct.  I  like  your  country,  and  am  proud  to  number 
many  citizens  of  the  United  States  an'iong  those  whom  I  h<Miour 
and  love.   It  is  contentment  with  our  own,  and  not  disparage- 


188 


THB  CbeCXMAnBR. 


■MOt  of  yoitf  institutHHia,  that  I  am  desirous  of  impmssmg 
upon  the  minds  of  my  countrymen.  Right,  said  he ;  I  tee  tt 
jui  plain  as  a  bopt*jaok;  it's  no  more  tlum  vour  duty.  Bat 
Hm  .^Mok  does  bedt  all— that?s  a  fact.  There's  more  fiction  in 
tins  than  in  t'other  one,  and  there  are  many  things  in  it  that  I 
oot^H  know  eaaotLy  what  to  say  to.  I  guess  you  had  better^ 
add  the  wwcb  to  the  title-page,  **  a  work  of  fiction,"  aiad  that 
will  clear  me,  or  you  most  put  your  name  to  it.  You  needn't 
be  asl»med  of  it,!  tdll  you.  it's  a  better  book  than  t'other 
one;  it  ninU  jiirt  altogether  so  local,  and  it  goes  a  little  grain 
deeper  into  things.  If  you  work  it  right,  you  will  make  your 
foctin'iout  of  it ;  it  will 'make  a  man  of  you,  you  may  depiand. 
How  so?  said  I;  for  the  last  volume,  all  the  remuneratiop  I 
had  was  the  satisftction  of  finding  it  had  done  some  good 
rnnong  theqe  for  whose  benefit  it  was  designed,  and  I  have  no 
iiither>exp80tation  from  this  work.  More  fool  you,  then,  said 
he;;  ibutril  tell  you  how  to  work  it.  Do  you  get  a  copy  of 
it  done  d^  on  most  beautiful  paper,  with  a'most  an'  elegant 
bindin',  all  covered  bver  die  back  with  gUditt«$  (I'll  gild  it  for 
yett  mwelf  eQnq>lete,iandicbatge  you  nothin'  but  the  price  <^ 
theigDid  Jeaf,  and  thatVaimeretrifie;  it  only  costs  the  matter 
of  rtwo  diilliiqis  and  skcpenes  a  paper,  or  thereabouts,^  and 
send  it  to  the  head  minister  ttf  the  Colonies,  with  a  letter. 
Saya  you, .  minister,  says  yon,  here's  a  work  that  will  open 
yattr«yes  a  Ut;  it  will  give  you  considerable  information  en 
American  ;  matters,  and  that's  a  thing,  I  guess,  none  on  you 
know  a  bit  too  much  on.  You  han't  heerd  so  much  truth, 
nor  seen  so  pretty  a  book,  this  one  labile,  I  know.  It  gives 
tiM  Yankees  a  considerable  of  a  hacklin',  and  that  ought  to 
please  yoii ;  it  shampoos  the  English,  and  that  ought  to  please 
the  FanJbees;  and  it  does  make  a  proper  fool  of  blue-nose, 
and  that  ought  to  please  you  both,  because  it  shows  it's  a 
considerable  of  an  impartial  work.  Now,  says  you,  minister, 
itfis  not  altogether  considered  a  very  profitable  trade  to  work 
for  nothin'  and  find  thread.*  An  author  can't  live  upon  nothin* 
but  air,  like  a  cameleon,  though  he  change  colour  as  often  as 
that  little  critter'  does.  This  work  has  done  a  good  deal  of 
good.  It  has  made  more  people  bear  of  Nova  Scotia  thflun 
ever  heerd  tell  of  it  afore  by  a  long  chalk ;  it  has  given  it  a 
t^racter  in  the  world  it  never  had  before,  and  raised  the  valy 
of  xael  property  there  c<msiderable ;  it  has  shown  the  world 
that  all  the  blue-nosw  there  ain't  fools,  at  any  rate;  and, 


' 


TBI  CLOOEMAKOl'S  PARflirO   ADVICE. 


1«9 


I 


1. 


though  I  sav  it  that  shouldn't  say  it,  that  there  is  one  Mtle- 
nian  there  that  shall  be  nam^ess  that's  cut  his  eye-teeth,  i||ty 
how.  The  natives  afe  considerable  proud  of  him ;  and  if'fem 
want  to  make  an  impartial  deal,  to  tie  the  T^ova  Sooliana  to 
you  for  ever,  to  make  your  own  name  descend  to  posterity 
with  honour,  and  to  prevent  the  inhabitants  from  ever  thinUn* 
of  Yankee  connexion  (mind  that  hint,  say  a  good  ileal  aboiit 
that ;  for  it's  a  tender  point  that,  ajoinin'  of  our  union,  «nd 
fear  is  plaguy  sight  stronger  than  love  any  time.)  You'll  wM 
sarve  him  as  you  sarved  Earl  Mulsrave  (though  his  writm^s 
aint  to  be  compared  to  the  Clockmwr,  no  inore  tiian  cluA 
is  to  cheese ;)  you  gave  him  the  governorshi]^  of  Jamaiea, 
and  arterwards  of  Ireland.  John  Russdl^s  writin's  got  lam 
t|^  birth  of  the  leader  of  the  House  of  Commons.  WelU 
JPrands  Head,  for  his  writin's  you  made  him  Qovemor  of 
Canada,  and  Walter  Scott  you  made  a  baronet  of,  and  Bulwer 
you  did  for  too,  and  a  great  many  others  you  have  got  the 
other  side  of  the  water  you  sarved  tlw  same  way.  Now, 
muuster,  fair  liay  is  a  jewel,  says  you ;  if  you  can  tewtatd 
your  writers  to  home  with  governorships  and  baronetcies,  and 
all  sorts  o'  snug  things,  let's  have  a  taste  o'  the  good  thiiigs 
this  side  o'  the  water  too*  You  needn't  be  alraid  o'  bein*  too 
often  troubled  that  way  by  authors  from  this  country.  (It 
will  make  him  larf  that,  and  there's  many  a  tru^  word  sud 
in  joke;)  but  we've  got  a  sweet  tooth  here  aswi^l  as  you 
have.  Poor  pickin's  In  this  country;  and  colonists  are  as 
hungry  as  hawks. 

The  Yankee  made  Washington  Irvin'  a  minister  plenipo*, 
to  honour  him ;  and  Blackwoml,  last  Nbyember,  in  his  mi^- 
zine,  says  that  are  Yankee's  books  ain't  fit  to  be  named  in 
the  same  day  with  the  Clockmaker — that  they're  nothin'  but 
Jeremiads.  Now,  though  Blackwood  desarves  to  be  wdl 
kicked  for  his  politicks,  (mind  and  say  that,  for  he  abuses  the 
ministry  sky-high  that  feller — ^I  wouldn't  take  that  critter's 
sarse,  if  I  was  them,  for  nothin'  a'most — he  railly  does  blow 
them  up  in  great  style,)  he  ain't  a  bad  judge  of  books,-— at 
least  it  don't  become  me  to  say  so;  and  if  he  don't  know 
much  about  'em  I  do ;  I  won't  turn  my  back  on  any  one  in 
that  line.  So,  minister,  says  you,  gist  tip  a  stave  to  the 
Governor  of  Nova  Scotia,  order  him  to  inquire  out  the  author, 
and  to  tell  that  man,  that  distinguished  man,  that  her  Majesty 
delights  to  reward  merit  and  honour  talent,  and  that  if  he  will 


■J 


ff  hpr  mr«l  llkt)ier»  wlip  Jived  #9  lom  «inwg  tbe  Klw»  niinw, 
ifjio  iBMiTi  liwgtt  hm  wpif  ii9Ciu  0oiiH  tliiMl«n  him }  fmt 
1^  aAw  «1wi^  if  fpw  g»  ibr  r(»  Uumten  John  Bwll,  he  nit 
Hfiiwe  off  te  %hl  wMhowt  wyij»*  ^  «  word ;  Wt  ^ive  him 
m  ihkrt.  9iiyp  yea,  I  M  »  penoocki  iftpd  «  idremirw  pivHy 
fciid  he  «M,  MM  ft'miMt «  beewtiftil  ppfeodi^  Jpiig  tail  he  had 
l«Oi  w^l,  whenever  I  toeh  tUsm  pwi  o*  i«r»imbi  out  into  the 
pevltry^wrd  to  lied  Uie  fimh,  Ihe  utity  stingy  critter  never 
wieuid  let  any  of  *em  have  a  emmb  till  he  served  biroielf 
•od  hie  eweetheart  ifinst*  Our  old  Huacovy  drake,  he  didn*t 
think  this  a  ftir  deal  at  all;  and  he  used  to  go  walkin*  round 
and  sound  the  fan  o««r  ao  oflen,  aloMin'  to  ge^  a  dip  into  it ; 
h|i(  feacock  he  always  flew  at  him  and  drove  him  off.  -  Well, 
wh»t  does  4iiahe  do*  {for  he  thought  he  wouldn't  threaten  him, 
lor  fear  of  gettin*  a  tarashiA',)  but  he  goes  round  and  seixes 
him  1^  the  tail,  and  mUs  him  head  over  heels,  and  drags  him 
aiU  jsver  the  yaad,  till  he  puUs  every  one  of  his  sreat,  long, 
beiMitiAU  leathers  oat,  and  made  a  most  propea  lookin*  fixd  of 
Imw  that'e  a  laot.  It  made  peacock  as  civil  as  you  please 
fyf  met  after.  Now,  says  you,  Mr.  ^lich  and  I  talk  of  goin* 
t0  Kwjglsnd  neit  year,  and  writin*  a  book  about  the  British : 
U I  ain't  ftUawed  to  fet  at  jthe  pan  of  crumbs,  along  with  some 
9*  4hem  big  birds  with  ;the  h>ng  tiyils,  and  get  my  snare  of  *em, 
eomefolh^  had  better  look  out  for  squalls:  if  Clockmaker 
ipeta  hold  of  'eai  by  the  tail,  if  he  don't  make  the  leathers  fly. 
It's  a  pity.  A  joke  is  a  joke,  but  I  guess  they'll  find,  that  no 
joke^  A  nod  is  as  good  as  a  wink  to  a  blind  horse ;  so  come 
4k»wB  handsum',  mimlter,  or  look  to  your  tails,  I  tell  you,  fixr 
there's  a  keel-hauling  in  store  for  some  of  you  that  shall  be 
nameless,  as  sure  as  you  are  born. 

Now,  squire,  do  that,|and  see  if  they  don't  send  you  out 
KDvernor  <k  some  colony  or  other ;  and  if  they  do,  gist  qnake 
we  your  deputy  secre^ury,— ^that's  a  good  man, — and  we'll 
write  books  till  we  write  ourselves  up  to  the  verpr  tip-to;p  of 
the  ladder— we  will,  indeed!  Ah,  my  friend,  said  I,  wnting 
a  book  is  no  great  rarity  in  Eingland  as  it  is  in  America, 
i  awure  you ;  and  colonies  would  soon  be  wanting,  if  every 
author  were  to  be  made  a  governor.  It's  a  rarity  in  the 
colonies,  though,  said  he;  and  I  should  like  to  know  how 
maoY  governors  thinre  have  been  who  could  write  the  two 
Clodanakcrs.    Why,  they  never  had  one  that  could  do  it  to 


aav 


•I 


THB  OLOOKHASm'S  FAATUTO  ADVIOB. 


191 


MTe  hk  loul  9hyt,  Coom;  come,  Mr.  SUokt  «id  I,  Ao  f^ 
JiMtier,  if  yoQ  pleaae,  to  me.  I  hkw^  do  ob|iedMi  to  iiio«ii| 
ywxt  jokes  upon  othen,  but  I  do  not  deeii*o  to  be  maito  thi  Ifii^i, 
jottt  of  one  myself.  I  am  not  quite  such  a  siiiipletoil  imi  QOt 
to  know  that  a  man  may  write  a  b(M>k,  and  yet  not  be  fit  Ibr 
a  ^vernor.  Some  books,  said  he,  such  as  I  could  name ;  but 
this  I  will  say,  and  maintain  to  my  dyin'  day,  that  a  man  tlutt 
knows  all  that's  set  down  in  the  Clockmakers  (and  it  ain*t 
probable  he  emptied  the  whole  bag  out — ^there  must  be  con* 
siderable  siftin*s  left  in  it  yet)  is  fit  for  governor  of  any  place 
in  the  univarsal  world.  1  doubt  if  even  Mr.  Van  Buron  him- 
self (the  prettiest  penman  atween  the  poles)  could  do  it.  Let 
'em  gist  take  you  up  by  the  heels  and  shake  you,  and  see  if 
as  much  more  don't  come  out. 

If  you  really  are  in  earnest,  I  said,  all  I  can  say  is,  that 
you  very  much  over-rate  it.  You  think  finvourably  of  tlM 
work,  beeause  you  are  kind  enough  to  think  favourably  of  the 
author.  AH  this  is  very  well  as  a  joke ;  but  I  assure  you 
they  would  not  even  condescend  to  answer  such  a  communi- 
cation at  the  Colonial  Office;  they  would  set  such  a  tetter 
down  as  the  ravings  of  insanity-— as  one  of  the  innumeraUo 
instances  that  are  constantly  occurring  of  the  vanify  and  fdiv 
of  authors.  Don't  you  believe  it,  said  he ;  and  if  ^ou  don't 
send  it,  I  hOpe  I  may  be  shpt  if  I  don't.  I'll  send  it  throu||^ 
our  minister  at  the  Court  of  St.  Jemes's.  Hell  do  it  with 
pleasure ;  he'll  feel  proud  of  it  as  an  American  production—- 
as  a  rival  to  Pickwick  Papers,  as  the  American  Boz ;  he  will, 
I  vow.  That's  gist  exactly  what  you  are  fit  for — ^I've  got  it 
—I've  got  it  now ;  you  shall  be  ambassador  to  our  court  to 
Washington.  The  knowled^  I  have  given  you  of  America, 
American  politics,  American  character,  and  American  feelin', 
has  gist  fitted  you  for  it.  It's  a  grand  birth  that,  and  private 
secretary  will  suit  me  to  a  notch.  I  can  do  your  writin',  and 
plenty  o'  time  to  spare  to  spekilate  in  cotton,  nisgers,  and 
tobacco  too.  That's  it — ^that's  the  dandy  I  And  he  jumped 
up,  snapped  his  fingers,  and  skipped  about  the  floor  in  a  most 
extraordinary  manner.  Here,  waiter,  d — li  your  eyes  1  (for 
I  must  lam  to  swear — the  English  all  swear  Uke  troopers;  the 

Frencn  call  'em  Mountshear d — ns,)  here,  waiter,  tell  his 

Excellency  the  British  minister  to  the  court  of  the  American 
people,  (that's  you,  squire,  said  he,  and  he  made  a  ?crape  of 
Ids  leg,)  that  Mr.  Secretary  Slick  is.waitin'.    Condie,  bear  a 


IIMI 


THa  OLOOUUIBR. 


hand,  rat  you,  and  atir  your  ituniM,  and  mind  the  titlet  do 
you  hear,— -Mr.  Secretary  Slick  ?  I  have  the  honour  to  wiah 
your  Excellency,  said  he,  with  the  only  bow  I  ever  saw  him 

KBrpetrate,  and  a  very  hearty  shake  of  the  hands— I  have  the 
onour  to  wish  your  Excellency  good  night  and  good  bye. 


# 


THE  END. 


*:.,      't._  ; 


■"     -    I  1     .  ■ 


'■^  -^^ 


■  \  .  \  -^   • 


<Vf—/ . 


I';' 


■:::x 


Htl«,  do 
to  with 
ftw  him 

ave  the 
bye. 


(.     ,. 


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^»ir. 


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